Vengeance Will Be Served
by Saber Wing
Summary: Tragedy strikes, leaving behind a broken knight and far more questions than answers. What sinister forces are at work? Slowly but surely they pick up the pieces, and time moves on. Does the clock tick in their favor, or does death loom on the horizon?
1. Prologue

**_Author's Note: _**Greetings everyone! Woo, where do I start? This is the new version of the very first fanfiction I ever wrote. Ah, from humble beginnings. Honestly, I haven't been able to stand looking at it for years now, but I wasn't quite sure if it was worth it to redo something with so many flaws, and it was forgotten among many other projects. However, now the gears are turning ^_^. I've been working on this for months and months, although I have had lapses in that period when I didn't have time to work on this. I figured though, I should stop being such a wuss and post the prologue, at least. I will do my very best to update regularly.

For those of you who read the original version of _Vengeance Will Be Served, _get that out of your head right now, because this is so different it can't even really be called the same story. The title of course, has remained, as well as a few of the original plot elements. However, trust me when I say this; even if you did read the other one, you will have no idea what's going on just like the new readers, other than a sense of occasional familiarity when it comes to vague elements of certain scenes. Virtually _everything_ is different. Really I guess it just has the same title.

But, I'm rambling now. I'll be shocked if anyone here actually remembers the original. God, I really hope no one remembers the original. It's embarrassing. Depending on how young some of you are, it might have been before your time. Gah, that makes me sound like a fossil. Anyway, I obviously don't own Final Fantasy VIII, or the characters. As if the disclaimer matters anymore. No one cares if I write one more out of the 12,000 fics in this category.

* * *

The soles of his boots pounded violently into the ground, leather straps and belts clinking in the otherwise silent night. Squall Leonhart sprinted through the darkened streets of Timber, Lionheart in hand. The pale blue, ever-present glow of the blade was usually comforting to him, but at this moment, he didn't even see it. Only the tell-tale weight of the gunblade alerted him to its presence at all. A small part of his mind acknowledged how dangerous that was, but he wouldn't allow it to slow his step. He was focused on the path ahead, on the task he had no choice but to complete. Keeping his goal in mind was the only thing preventing him from falling into a dead panic.

Despite his outward attempt at calm, his breath came in harsh, desperate gasps as he made his way past dim street lights, bewildered passersby gazing on in astonishment. There weren't many people out wandering at this hour, which he was thankful for.

The less he had to shove out of his way, the better.

_She went out alone_.

_Damn it. How could I let her do that?_

Rounding the street corner, Squall followed where his instincts told him to go, fighting the pang of fear that snaked into his heart. He had only just officially become her knight and their senses weren't yet in tune. Despite that, he could always feel her presence.

Then it had disappeared without warning, and he didn't think.

He just ran.

Once again, he reached for his sorceress, hoping against hope that he was overreacting. That he was wrong.

Once again he found nothing, and his chest tightened with dread. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, fighting the void of despair that came forth to engulf him. She was a sorceress. She could cloak her presence if she wanted to, couldn't she?

Why would she, and so abruptly?

He pushed the question out of his mind, not ready to face the answers it could bring. He doubted he ever would be.

At the end of the street was an alley that twisted off to the right. Without hesitation he ducked into it, and in no time was running down cobblestone paths, emerging in a clearing just outside the forest. Instantly, he could smell the blood permeating the air, and without any hesitation, the animalistic terror he'd been holding back sprang to the forefront of his mind.

Squall stood frozen with fear, arms dead weights at his sides. Part of him wanted to run. Turn away and never look back. A shameful defense mechanism, not that cowardice would help him now.

He shouldn't look. Deep down, he knew exactly what he would find, but he had no choice now. He was in too deep. Far too deep.

Turned out there was no saving either of them.

His steps, leaden and heavy, carried him toward the spreading stain that sank into the ground. A petite young woman in a pale blue duster lay crumpled and still, wings that were once pure white stained red in a grotesque parody of what they had once been. The bones were bent at odd angles where they extended from her back. As if her death had been sudden, they remained activated.

Those horrible, beautiful wings called to him, mocking him. Had he been there, this beauty would still be here with him. Had he been there, this angel's wings would still be pure. He realized with a vague sort of shock that he'd dropped his weapon as he lost all sense of composure, body shaking uncontrollably.

It wasn't true.

Ultimecia was finally gone, and they could live in peace. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to lose the ones he loved. Not when he was finally happy.

Not again.

_She promised._

_She promised she wouldn't leave._

The silken, ebony strands of hair he'd become so fond of touching were tangled in a messy, ruined clump. Her face, though turned away from him, almost surely held a ghostly cast in place of the cheerful, healthy blush that normally colored her skin. Unable to support his weight, he fell to his knees in the pool of blood, reaching out to touch her, taking her into his arms in a pathetic attempt to breathe life into her cooling flesh.

This was all just a really bad joke, wasn't it? The moment his fingertips brushed across her skin, she would turn over to kiss him on the cheek, a flirtatious smile, the one that drove him crazy, curving her lips. She would laugh at the look on his face, but then she'd take his hand.

"Fooled you, didn't I? You're so gullible. My knight."

With hands that shook, Squall rested his palm upon her cheek, her face still turned from him, but she didn't stir, nor did she make a sound. Tears he struggled to hold back filmed his eyes as he cautiously reached out to grip her chin between his fingers, and with a resolve he didn't know he had, turned her head toward him.

In that moment, the last remaining pieces of his heart shattered in his chest.

This wasn't the face of the smiling woman who filled his every thought. No. This was the face of broken woman, of someone whose spirit had been crushed and driven from this world. Rinoa was alive and always smiling, optimistic, headstrong, impossible to deal with. She would never lie on the ground like this, cold and still.

_She is not dead._

_She's not._

_She can't be._

And yet, why didn't she answer him? Her lips were slightly parted. Her cheeks, warm to the touch. The facts were all wrong. They had to be.

It didn't make sense.

It didn't make sense that she refused to reach up and cover his hand with hers. It didn't make sense that her lips remained parted, yet absent word and breath. It didn't.

It couldn't.

_It can't…_

The dam broke and tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision until the world was a hazy, unrecognizable mess. He was deluding himself and he knew it.

Because she was _dead_. No matter what happened now, there was nothing he could do to change it.

Of their own accord, his hands trailed a path down the broken body of his sorceress, not stopping until they burrowed into feathers that were sticky and wet with blood. His broken wings.

His fallen angel.

Wild blue eyes passed blankly over the black and white feathers scattered around his beloved's form, just before a piercing cry shattered the night.

* * *

Gnarled trees bent as they succumbed to the pressure of the wind, leaves rustling and falling, branches snapping and creaking from the strain. A faint howling was all that could be heard for miles upon miles, as if the creatures dwelling here could sense the tension in the atmosphere.

Eerie shadows danced around the figures of two wayward humans who glided through the forest, moving with it, blending in as if they belonged there. The night was their ally, as was the turbulence raging around them. Rather than hinder them, it pushed them ever onward.

In one fluid motion, the larger figure came to a stop, her body shrouded in darkness itself. Long red hair whipped untamed around her head, further cloaking the face that hid behind it. Though her features were scarcely seen, one didn't need their eyes to know that she was smiling. It was a terrible sort of humor and it was present in the air, palpable with every breath one took as she drew near.

A split second later, another figure, one with a stride just as graceful and strong, paused a half-step behind her, his body hidden by the shadow of his mistress. In a smooth, baritone voice, he spoke above the wind.

He didn't need to shout. No matter the volume, she always heard him.

"Was that truly necessary, my lady?" the man questioned. His loyalty to her was clear in his tone, though at the moment, it was perhaps a bit skeptical.

A flash of anger crossed her face, one that went unnoticed by him.

Her smugness could clearly be heard in her reply, as could the authority and power she possessed. Even the trees and the leaves seemed to cower away.

"If I can't have her, she's better off dead. Besides…" A wicked grin curved her lips. "…if the sorceress dies, the knight will soon follow. That all plays very well in our favor, don't you think? You don't believe I will fail, do you?" Her voice was harsh and mocking, though he didn't seem to hear it. Only the words she spoke mattered, for they were just for him. He seemed to hang reverently upon each one.

A flash of lightning briefly lit up the midnight sky, illuminating a handsome face adorned with glowing emerald eyes. Relishing the moment, he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as if he were basking in warmth he swore he could feel. "Fear not, my mistress. Vengeance will be served."

* * *

I don't know about you guys, but I think that's a pretty strong start. Reviews are wonderful if you have the time, and I hope you'll stay tuned for more ^_^. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep off of the path of procrastination and regularly update.

Edit: 01/26/14 - Hey everyone! I haven't forgotten this story, but I do feel as if it's not my best, so I'm going through and rewriting every chapter, the way they should be written. I've been a slacker about this for far too long. The plot is staying the same. I might tweak a few things, but nothing major. For the most part, I'm going to be refining the prose and format. I've just done so with this prologue. Thanks for reading and sticking with me!


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Made of the purest ivory, touched with the faintest trim of gold. For a moment, he could forget that this was to be a young woman's tomb. How could something so beautiful be so horrifying?_

_The ominous melody of a dark symphony echoed in the background, falling on ears that were almost too deaf to hear the sounds. At another time, he might have called that beautiful as well but right now, it was just haunting. As he gripped the edge of the coffin with these precious remains inside, he knew there was no other way to describe such a thing. With a heavy heart, he walked down the aisle and out the doors of the chapel, just one of the many sorrowful souls carrying it to where it would rest._

_Every face was mournful as the company trudged closer to the headstone marking the spot, muffled sobs and silent tears emphasizing the finality this funeral stood for. Time blurred and ran together as the coffin was placed below the ground. The small group of friends and relatives clustered around it, not wanting to see, but unable to resist catching one more glimpse. A stern looking man clad in a dress uniform broke down and covered his face with his hands, tears escaping from eyes that were filled with regret. His name was General Caraway._

_He'd done a lot of business with the man over the years, and never had he seen him so broken. He'd never relaxed his ramrod stance even once in the time they'd known each other, and yet now he stood hunched over, weeping beside the grave of a child he had called his own. It made him realize that no matter how different, people were just people. Live the same, die the same. The knowledge made his heart sink farther into his chest._

_As last words were said and love was expressed, a young SeeD commander, the object of his worried thoughts, stepped toward the hole in the ground, standing straight and tall, shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly. With horror, he realized that the young man was standing a little too close to the opening, close enough to plunge headlong into it._

_In a heart-stopping moment, he turned his head to gaze at him, blue eyes as lost and dead as the woman who'd bequeathed them to him. An empty smile flickered across his lips. It could almost be called lonely and yet at the same time, taunting. Such a look sent shivers running violently up and down his spine. He thought he could see just a hint of madness there; a cold, consuming bitterness, whispering promises that threatened to rip anyone apart. All of these emotions and more played across his face, just before he let himself fall beneath the ground._

_No! He couldn't let this happen! He couldn't let his child die when he had only just discovered him!_

_Desperately he shouted, but no matter how loud he screamed, no matter how hard he tried to get them to stop, they didn't appear to hear him, or see what was right in front of their faces. Almost of its own accord, dirt and soil was thrown in to cover the body of the young man who lay upon the coffin._

_Once again, no one seemed to notice. No one bothered to pause._

_He screamed at them to stop it, hoping beyond hope that someone would hear him. Couldn't they see what they were doing? They were crushing him, burying him along with the dead! Why did it have to be this way? He shouldn't have to die with her. He couldn't bear that. He wouldn't! _

_Laguna Loire lunged toward the opening of the halfway covered grave, desperately clawing at the scattered dirt._

* * *

"Squall!"

Laguna bolted upright in his desk, voice echoing loudly around the chamber. Man. Embarrassing even for him. Last time he checked, he hadn't been this much of a wimp.

He'd been dreaming, hadn't he? A sense of desperation he understood all too well had him on edge, and that made him a little nervous. Disoriented, he scanned the space around him.

_Just calm down, Laguna. _Nothing was here. There were no enemies lurking in the shadows. There was nowhere he should be patrolling. Monsters were not crowding in to kill he and his comrades. There was nothing to fear. Nope, nothing threatening. Right? So then, why was his heart pounding so fast? He hated when this happened, because when it did, his mind couldn't seem to move fast enough to catch up with his body. It almost reminded him of when Ellone had been taken.

Emerald eyes widened as he realized why that was, and Laguna sighed in frustration. _Squall. _Even just the thought of him made his blood run cold. He was scared for him. No, he was terrified. Especially whenever he had _that _dream. His breath came in harsh gasps as he sat in silence and suddenly, this enormous chamber seemed _far _too large.

_Calm down. Okay, just calm down. _The last thing he needed was to send himself into a panic attack. It hadn't happened in years, but he'd been under a lot of stress lately, which was usually what triggered the violent reactions. Luckily, the feeling was easy enough for him to overcome. He would will himself to calm down and after awhile, that was what happened (if he caught it in time, anyway). Then he could get his head back in order and figure out why he was feeling the way he was. Focus on your surroundings. Regulate your thoughts. See the big picture, then catalog everything one step at a time. That usually helped him sort things out.

The room he called his office was quite a sight to say the least, being halfway crafted from glistening panes of glass. It really did make for a peaceful atmosphere, and there was always something to look at if he ever lost sight of what he was fighting for. The city lights glittered and winked from every direction, creating a sight so impressive, any who looked upon it weren't likely to forget. Those walls represented the freedom he loved and the country he would die for.

The walls that were not made of glass were covered with sprawling bookshelves, containing all manner of literature and history from Esthar and other cultures. They were the duty he'd sworn to fulfill, the people he'd promised to protect, and the responsibilities he took upon his shoulders. These sturdy walls were as much a part of him as the gorgeous, whimsical glass ones were. It was important to understand yourself, above all people. It had taken him far too much of his life to learn that.

His favorite couch was placed along the wall to his right, and thank Hyne for that. He'd crashed there more times than he could count. It was convenient when he had to pull all-nighters in here and he was too tired to go home afterward. More often than not, he'd just drag himself to the couch and end up passing out for twelve hours. Or he'd fall asleep on the desk and wake up to Kiros smacking him over the head with a stack of papers, which had happened on more than one occasion. Seriously, the man was pure evil.

Said desk, which was made of the finest heavy-oak, stood relatively in the center of the room. Even with just a glance, anyone who knew him could tell it was his. Papers were scattered in untidy piles on the surface, crusted coffee mugs littered the sides, and ink from an exploded pen coated a few documents that should have been taken care of weeks ago. Oh. Speaking of falling asleep at his desk. Oops.

Kiros wanted him to go over the blueprints for one of their upcoming lab facilities in the desert. He got bored, fell asleep and had _that_ dream again.

Laguna narrowed his eyes in concern as he threaded his fingers through his hair, wincing when he encountered a few messy, knotted clumps. Damn it. This was the last straw. He couldn't afford to be indecisive any longer.

He hadn't had a single restful moment since the incident in Timber two weeks ago, not even in sleep. Who wanted to sleep after such a shock? A beautiful young woman with a bright future was dead. They had no idea who'd done it or why. The only certainty seemed to be that it centered around her status as the last surviving sorceress. Laguna shouldn't have been so lax when Rinoa insisted on being in the public eye so soon after the war. He should have made sure she was protected, not that the SeeDs weren't doing a good job already. Hyne, maybe he was just trying to find a way to blame himself for this, like everyone else.

Especially Squall.

After Ultimecia's defeat three months ago, Laguna had started working together with Balamb Garden to achieve Timber's independence from Galbadia. Admittedly, it hadn't been much of a challenge. After all of the devastating things that had happened to their country, they didn't have much interest in holding onto a small forest town so they had, if somewhat reluctantly, agreed to handing it back over to who it rightfully belonged to; the people themselves. Rinoa especially took charge of the operation, working with Squall and the others to help organize elections and set up a stable government. That was why they'd been there in the first place. There had been a series of ceremonies and celebrations they were required to participate in.

After a particularly long and eventful day, Rinoa went alone to the Forest Owls' base to celebrate with her friends Zone and Watts. Soon after, Squall had bolted out of the hotel room in a dead panic, apparently claiming that she was in danger. A search was immediately carried out by all SeeDs present, but unfortunately, their efforts were in vain. Around an hour later, Squall found her, dead in a clearing just beyond the path leading into the forest. To make matters worse and more mysterious than ever, there had been countless hundreds of feathers scattered around her body. That wouldn't have been so surprising, if pitch black hadn't been mixed among the white. Needless to say, countless people were scrambling to find out why that was and where they had come from. Analysis had shown they weren't bird feathers of any kind.

That raised far more questions than answers for everyone involved in the investigation. The only other possibility coming to mind was simply not possible.

Was it? _There shouldn't be any now, _he thought to himself, as he struggled to quell his rising apprehension. _Except for whoever took Rinoa's powers. _That was another loose end. A sorceress had no choice but to pass on her powers before she died and if so, did that mean Rinoa had been forced to give hers to her killer? Maybe that was why they'd killed her. In a lust for her power. But who would aspire toward such a thing? Another sorceress they'd missed, looking for an extra boost?

Laguna shook his head rapidly from side to side. That couldn't be it. There had to be another explanation. He refused to believe that there could be another psychopathic sorceress running around. It was true that there was significant magical damage to Rinoa's body, but the killing blow had clearly been inflicted by some sort of blade. Sorceresses didn't normally use them.

He was worried about who the killer might be, but honestly, that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. The look in Squall's eyes when he'd seen him at the funeral was permanently etched into his mind, and it was killing him. Whenever Laguna closed his eyes, he was there, and it didn't help that he kept dreaming about those same events of the funeral, with a few slight, morbid differences of course. Obviously Squall hadn't _really_ been buried along with Rinoa, but the way he was acting, he might as well have been. Was that what it meant? Was his subconscious mind warning him of what was to come?

Laguna shivered at the thought.

All of Squall's comrades were grieving too, but they were more worried about their friend than anything else. Several of them had personally come to ask Laguna for advice. It made him feel terrible to see them so helpless. They'd saved the world and time itself through their efforts, but the fact remained that they were just kids, lost and looking for guidance. Despite everything they had accomplished in their lives already, they were not immune to hopelessness. Laguna wasn't generally a negative thinker, at least when he could help it. Unfortunately, he was breaking his own rule more and more often now.

Soundlessly, he rested his head against the desk, staring with frustration at the paper weight directly in his field of vision. He was seriously tempted to bash it into his temple. Laguna had been fighting with himself over what to do about Squall even before Rinoa's death, and as much as he hated to say it, it complicated things. It made what he had to say that much harder to reveal.

"Laguna?" questioned a voice from the doorway. He picked his head up at the sound of his name, just in time to see Kiros approaching him. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he hadn't heard the door open.

Either Kiros was quicker than Laguna thought, or his perception of time was messed up, because his friend was already standing right in front of him in what seemed to be the space of a second. Deep black eyes softened as they gazed down at him, the elegant features of his face following suit. "I heard you scream. Same dream again?"

The heavy silence was enough of an answer. Kiros walked around the desk to stand beside Laguna, hand coming to rest on his shoulder with the same firm, steadfast support it always had. Through anything and everything, this man, along with Ward, had always been there to help him when he needed it the most. A comfort he was thankful for, but also a reminder.

All the friends in the world didn't matter if you refused to let them in.

With the utmost resolve, Laguna squared his shoulders, displaying an inner strength he was glad he still had. "I have to tell him, Kiros." His voice was deceptively calm, though he doubted it fooled the other man for a second.

It didn't. Kiros raised an eyebrow, uncertainty clouding his normally clear gaze. "Are you sure about this, man?"

Damn Kiros and his creepy mind reading powers. Somehow he could always tell how he truly felt. Laguna groaned. There was no use hiding it, was there? "No, of course not, but what else am I supposed to do? I can't just sit quietly and wait for this thing to pan out. Squall may go insane by then."

"That's true, but you know how the boy is. He wouldn't have taken this well under normal circumstances, but now it might just make things worse. He's dangling on the edge as it is, Laguna."

"I know! I just…" Laguna tried to suppress a sigh, ultimately failing miserably. _Stop it. No running away. _He'd just finished telling himself to cut the uncertainty, and he sure as hell wasn't going to forget that so soon. With a deep breath, he pressed on.

"I know what the risks are. I've been wracking my brain nonstop, but this is the only way I can see. I can't sit here and do nothing anymore! Squall is dangerously close to losing it. Selphie calls me crying sometimes, did you know that? Saying that he runs off all on his own, and they have no idea where to find him half the time. He's shutting himself away from the world and pushing everyone out. I've hesitated until now because I'm afraid it might be more than his mind can take, but he's already falling flat on his face. How much worse could I make it? His friends love him, but how can they help him when he won't let them get close enough? He needs someone different. Something deeper."

"What might that be? Do you seriously think he would ever let you get close enough to break that armor of his, especially after hearing the truth?" Kiros asked, far from convinced. He wasn't trying to be harsh; nevertheless, his voice was firm. Laguna knew him well enough to realize that, but it didn't stop the words from stinging.

The President of Esthar rubbed his face with his hands, suppressing a wince as he did so. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't know, but I have to try." Before he could have second thoughts, Laguna reached over and plucked the phone from the receiver, hands shaking as his leg cramped beneath him.

"I have to tell him I'm his father, and I have to do it right."

* * *

He was as dead as she was. That was what they all said.

Silently, he trudged through the wilderness, the lights of Balamb Garden growing fainter behind him. He'd been out here for hours, though he didn't know how many. Not that it mattered anyway. The air was crisp, and his jacket lay where he'd left it in his office, but that too, was of no concern. There was a much deeper chill he lived with, one that never went away. This was nothing compared to it.

He'd left rather abruptly, but that was all right. It was expected by his friends now. _Where is Squall?_ _Well, he's not buried in his work. He must be wandering somewhere. Poor guy. _They would shake their heads and sigh. The words had not been spoken, but they didn't need to be. Some messages were understood just as well if they were kept silent.

She had already been gone from his life for more time than he cared to count, though despite that, his brain still betrayed him and reminded him that it had been two long weeks. He refused to think of her name. It hurt too much, and he couldn't stop himself from flinching whenever it was mentioned by anyone else. How pathetic was that? The legendary SeeD who had saved them all, broken by a single death among thousands and the mere mention of a name. He imagined what they must say. How tragic. How sad.

Squall had always been the silent pillar of strength to everyone who relied on him at Garden. Inside though, he knew how weak he was, and how utterly useless. Deep down he was insecure because he truly wanted people to like him, but he was also afraid. Afraid that they _would _like him, just as a secret part of him wanted. Afraid that they would come to rely on him and that he, in turn, would rely on them. Afraid that one more blow to his heart would be all it would take to destroy him.

For awhile he'd been able to forget his shortcomings, or at least, that was what he'd led himself to believe. As long as she was there with him, he could lock away his fear and open up his heart. He could do anything if she was there, but that was just the thing. If she was there, he was strong. If she was there, he could overcome anything. If she was there, nothing could touch him. If she wasn't, he was useless. That wasn't strength, it was weakness. He still relied completely on people and as soon as they were gone, he failed. It had been the same way with Sis, and it was even worse now. Squall hadn't changed at all, and he never would. He would always be weak. He would always be useless. He didn't know how to cope and he knew that, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore.

"Squall." It was a single word, just the simple mention of his name, but that was all it took. Listlessly, he turned toward the sound to look at the sniper who silently approached him. His auburn hair was pulled back in a pony-tail, gun holstered at his side, trademark outfit clinging to his frame. He was the same as Squall had always known him to be, though his face was far from what could be considered normal. Instead of happy, it was sad. Instead of mischievous, it was serious, and if he was forced to admit it to himself, Squall didn't like the change at all. But he wouldn't admit it. He couldn't. That was him, all right. Squall Leonhart was the lone wolf. The reluctant leader. He ran alone. He cared for no one.

"Come on back. It's cold out here. People are starting to worry," Irvine said, reaching out to touch his friend on the shoulder. Squall shook him off and stalked in the opposite direction. After a second's delay, the other man fell wordlessly into step beside him.

_Don't touch me. You'll get hurt. _They always did. And yet, no matter how many times he told them off, no matter how many times he pushed them away, they always came back for more. He was a tainted soul. Anyone he cared about always got hurt. Why couldn't they see that? They'd only suffer if they stayed with him. He didn't want to care about them. He didn't want to feel at all.

"Whatever," he replied, head held high, step straight and sure. How terribly ironic. He was a pillar standing high above the ground, one that had always been cracked, and finally succumbed to the urge to crumble in defeat. He stood tall even as he lay shattered into pieces, for they couldn't be allowed to see what he truly was. Steadily he killed his emotions, and slowly but surely, they died the same death his heart had.

He was as dead as she was. He would make sure of that.

* * *

So, there we have it. The second installment, and I worked very hard on it. It took me awhile to work out exactly how I wanted this chapter set up, but once I figured that out, everything else fell into place.

Unless you've been living under a rock, you obviously know that Laguna is Squall's father. That is a major theme of this story, in case you hadn't already guessed. Just thought I'd put that out there.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are wonderful ^_^


	3. Chapter 2

These four walls used to be his refuge. Now they threatened to suffocate him.

Squall Leonhart rolled over on the bed, restlessness consuming him. He didn't know why he even bothered trying. Sleep no longer came to him, aside from a few hours here and there. Even if he did manage to drift off, he always woke up in a cold sweat from dreams he could scarcely remember. His listless gaze found the digital clock on his bedside table. Six-thirty in the morning. Time had been crawling so slowly, he felt as if half the day should be over already.

This room held too many memories now. All of them, especially the happy ones, haunted him. More than anything he hated coming here, but he couldn't seem to stop. Irvine had been surprised that Squall would want to be here when he'd walked back with him from the forest, and he didn't blame him.

Maybe he wasn't ready to let go of the time they had spent here together. Maybe he was punishing himself. Squall didn't know the answer, but he had suspicions. It was a sort of purgatory. The longer he stayed the more agonizing it was, and after awhile, you couldn't feel much of anything anymore. Nevertheless, the pain was a dull throb now. A living, breathing entity he kept locked up inside. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't dampen it, but unconsciously, his body tried to fulfill his mind's wishes.

Scowling, Squall sat up slowly, twisted sheets hampering his movement until he shoved them off in a huff. She had always teased him for the way he slept. The impossible positions he would find himself in amused her.

_You're so stiff all the time, you'd think you would be one of those guys who never moves, _she'd said with a wicked grin. Before he knew what was happening, she was gripping the front of his shirt, pulling his lips down to meld with hers…

Anxiety he normally locked away rose up to choke him and reared its ugly head; like the lion he claimed to be, it roared so loudly through his body, he couldn't stop himself from shaking. Squall wrapped both arms tightly around his stomach, in a futile attempt to hold himself together.

_Stop that, you moron._

No more thoughts of her. Squall could feel the tears burning behind his eyes, but he couldn't let them out. He absolutely refused to succumb something so pitiful and useless. Crying? No. He'd sunken pretty low, but he wasn't that weak. Gritting his teeth, he dug his fingernails into his palms. He was almost positive they drew blood.

This was getting him nowhere. He needed it to hurt, but those memories crippled him beyond his ability to function if he thought about them for too long. It was like a specific dosage of medication. Too much would kill you, but not enough would do more harm than good.

Pain kept him focused if it was the right amount. It was the medicine that dampened and increased his sorrow, turning it to a roaring flame, and yet at the same time, smothering his heartache beneath an icy shroud of oblivion.

The fact that such contradictory statements made sense told him how dangerously close to insanity he really was.

Just being in this room was agonizing enough to meet the necessary pain requirements. Killing his emotions, however, did not include getting caught up in memories that would bring them right back again and send him into a panic. If he was going to be the walking dead, he wanted to do it thoroughly. Needless things like anger and sorrow could no longer be a part of his character, unless being used as motivation, of course. That was why it annoyed him to no end whenever he felt anything at all. It was more proof of how much of failure he was. He could always pretend to turn off all emotion, but actually doing so was tougher than he'd imagined.

Squall could hardly even manage to fake it anymore, although he thought he'd perfected stoicism years ago. As he stood up from his (their) bed and stalked to the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror. Every facet of his face was perfectly smooth, just the way he liked it, but something was wrong. Something was off, and he could never hope to forget what it was. It was the look in his eyes. It ruined everything.

He hated the way they shimmered just slightly with that sickening, fanatical gleam. He hated the deep, dark rings that rimmed them like endless black holes. He hated the shrewd, narrow shape they seemed to always be stuck in. The control he valued above all else was slipping through his fingers, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

_No matter how hard you try to hold on…it escapes you._

Squall shivered. Perhaps Ultimecia's words rang truer than he wanted to admit.

After he'd taken a cold shower (he didn't deserve warmth), Squall donned his customary leather outfit and strapped his gunblade to his belt, all the while wondering if he would get the opportunity to use it. Secretly, he hoped he would. Training and killing monsters were an obsession for him as of late. If he wasn't in his office, out chasing down leads, or wandering aimlessly, he was trying to find something to kill. That might have moderately disturbed him about a month ago, but after everything that had happened, nothing was a shock anymore.

Above all, he needed to get somewhere today. Chasing down dead-end leads with virtually nothing to go on was pushing him closer and closer to the edge of what precious little control he had. A list of suspects had been drawn up and several dozen interviewed, but none of the prospects added up. There had been no DNA evidence left behind at the scene, and no personal effects to speak of. The only thing out of the ordinary had been the multi-colored feathers scattered around her body. Squall didn't like the implications of that any more than he liked thinking about what that crime scene had looked like. If there was another sorceress…

That didn't have to be the case, he reminded himself. It could have been just an ordinary person who had carried out the murder, then became a sorceress as a result. However, despite knowing this, he seriously doubted it.

It couldn't be. But maybe, just maybe…it wasn't so foolish. He'd been driving himself mad with thoughts of this, and coming to his present conclusion made sense. If there had been another sorceress wandering around the world unbeknownst to them, she could have easily pulled off a murder, in turn, gaining new powers to add to her own. This didn't seem as simple as a quest for magical power, though. From the way she'd been…brutalized, it could have been a personal grudge.

Squall gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, resisting the urge to slash at something with his blade. He wanted to scream, cry, find whoever had done this and rip them to shreds, but he couldn't. He couldn't destroy what he couldn't see. For now, he had to focus on finding whoever it was…he'd deal with everything else later. At the very least, he had to keep himself breathing until he'd gotten his revenge. The beast that lived within him roared, desperate for release, thirsting for the enemy's flesh beneath its hands, but he couldn't let it out. Not yet. There was no telling what he might do if he allowed his rage to control him.

Chaos swirled around and around in his head, almost making him dizzy with the discord it unleashed. Crazy…he must really be going crazy. Even as he stood so silent and still, attempting to reach some sort of calm, all he wanted to do was lose it, utterly ruining everything in his path. He wanted people to understand the pain that he felt, to know the torment ripping him apart, breathing deep within his soul. He wanted to treat them all the same way the world had treated him. Maybe then they'd see. Maybe then they'd get it.

Instead he walked to the door, wrenched in open, stormed through, and slammed it shut, not even bothering to lock it. He didn't give a damn anymore. Squall had nothing more of value to lose.

It would have been nice if he'd been able to go about his business without being bothered by any nosy subordinates (they were _not _his friends), but unfortunately, that wasn't the way things turned out. He'd just rounded the corner to his office when Quistis stood up from her desk, wearily brushing stray locks of golden hair from her face. The young woman looked more disheveled than she normally did, though he expected no less these days. Her uniform was wrinkled and her hair hung down to the middle of her back, rather than the neatly clipped style she often sported. Her blue eyes seemed a hint duller than he remembered, and yet they still held the same subdued focus they always had. She acted as an assistant of sorts to him, but he hadn't expected her to be here yet. No one usually was. She didn't appear to notice him until he'd taken a few steps into the room; however, when her gaze swung around, she didn't seem surprised to see him.

Despite her fatigue, she threw him a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're here early," she stated absently, voice so tired, it was almost flat. There were faint, dark circles around her eyes. She probably hadn't slept at all. No one really did anymore. There was too much work to be done.

Squall grunted something that barely passed as an answer, and made a move to walk past her into his office. However, he stopped himself halfway. He spoke as little as possible, especially when it came to _them, _but he supposed it couldn't be helped this time. They were vital to the investigation; that was all. He didn't want their companionship, nor did he need it. Keeping his back turned to Quistis, he addressed her in a quiet, detached voice.

"Did you make any progress on the testing?" he asked, knowing full well that she would be listening. It never mattered how low he spoke or even if he didn't speak at all. She usually knew what Squall wanted.

A soft sigh sounded from behind him. "It came back negative. Whatever they are, they don't belong to any type of bird discovered by man."

His chest tightened painfully, a cold sort of dread sinking into his heart. He'd expected that, but part of him had hoped he'd be wrong. He should be happy. This brought him one step closer to the truth, yet somehow, he was…scared?

No. He was fearless. Just like Griever, he did not know what it was to be afraid. Squeezing his eyes shut and giving himself an almost imperceptible shake, he pushed all thought aside, made sure the placid mask was in place, and turned to Quistis. She, of course, was already looking at him. Her eyes drilled into him and he met her gaze, but it wasn't as if that mattered. She would see only what he wanted her to see.

"It's…" Squall began, however, he was unexpectedly cut short.

"A sorceress?" Quistis finished, almost wryly. For a second he was startled, and it showed despite his efforts not to betray _any _outward emotion. Her eyes sparkled as some of their former warmth returned to them, and her lips twitched up as if she were about to smile. It lasted a split second but then it was gone, replaced with the somber expression that seemed to have become a part of her face.

"I've had the same thoughts myself, and so have the others. President Loire called and expressed as much to me. Which reminds me, he wanted to talk to you. At the time, you were…" Quistis trailed off, and Squall tried not to think about the pain in her eyes. She blinked once, but otherwise, she held herself together. Anyone who didn't know her would have dismissed the pause as nothing more than a lost train of thought, but he knew better. He was almost impressed by the way she held herself together as she picked up where she'd left off.

"You weren't present at the time. I discussed the situation with him and he seemed to think he was on to something. He told me to give you the message and have you contact him as soon as possible. From what he told me, he wants you to visit him in Esthar in order to work together on the case."

_The case. _Such cold words, and yet he understood why she would use them. It put the situation at a distance. Became just another mission to them; just another day of work with no strings attached. The thought of it was so ridiculous, it was almost funny. If only things were that simple. If only the happy times were here to stay, but they never were. Whatever happiness he ever had always came crashing down on top of him.

_Damn it._

He was doing it again. He'd always been one to think too much. Once again, he slammed the doors to his mind, revealing none of the turmoil inside. This time, he hoped he could throw away the key. Within the space of a second, he went from out of control, to completely collected. Once again, he was the cold, calculating commander. On the outside, at least.

Despite all appearances, Squall had to sigh. He was having a tough enough time solving this without having to deal with that moronic excuse for a President. He knew he was just trying to help, but he didn't want to deal with him any more than he wanted to deal with anyone else. Nevertheless, he didn't really have a choice but to cooperate. The man was powerful in his own right, and he had resources at his disposal that even SeeD couldn't dream of. Not to mention, Quistis just said he had ideas on where to start, which meant he might have a list of probable culprits. The madness swirling within him, which he barely held in check, flared up anew. Laguna could provide more leads…and resources.

"Fine. I'll call him," Squall finally replied. Running his fingers wearily through chestnut locks of hair, he turned and stalked to his office doorway, pretending not to be shaken by the force of the feelings he'd just experience. It only added to his earlier thoughts. The darkness was spreading inside of him, he could feel it, and that wasn't even the worst part. An ever-growing stain, a seething, all-consuming hatred, coiled and uncoiled within him, tarnishing his battered soul. Secret whispers snaked their way into his mind and no matter how hard he tried, he could not ignore them. _Revenge consumes your every thought, and an ever-growing part of you doesn't care._

This was bad. Squall was a loose cannon, and he knew it. And, yes, he _didn't _care. The sensible part of him was appalled at his utter lack of control, and yet, another part just shrugged, uncaring. How strange. He really had no idea who he was anymore. It made him want to scream.

However, despite his inner turmoil, he couldn't quite bring himself to walk away from Quistis without so much as a word. The semi-sane corner of his mind was bothered too much by the fact that she had obviously been working through the night. Damn this conscience of his. He wished it would disappear completely.

Without turning, he spoke in a crisp tone. There was no helping it, then. It would just bother him unless he said something. "Go to your room and get some sleep. You won't be very useful to me if you run yourself into the ground." It was just work related. It had nothing to do with personal matters at all. Quistis was vital to this investigation, and he needed her in top condition.

"Of course, Commander Leonhart. As you say." Much to his chagrin, he could almost see the knowing smile on her face. Her tone was respectful as always, and yet at the same time, it held an irritating hint of sarcasm. He assumed she saluted before she went out the door, but if she did, he didn't care enough to take it in. Before he knew it her footsteps were gone, and he stood alone in the doorway.

Squall didn't think about how lonely that made him feel, nor did he think about how many long buried memories it brought back as he crossed to the standard issue desk that stood in a corner, folders, papers and all manner of office supplies organized neatly along the surface. Before he could change his mind, he plucked the phone off of its cradle, dialed a number he had mentally programmed into his head, and dropped himself heavily into his swivel chair. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned and braced himself for what was to come. This was going to be grueling, he could feel it.

One…two…three rings went by before the receiver was picked up, and Squall listened as a voice echoed from the other end. "President Loire, here."

"Good morning, sir. I understand you want to meet with me." Blue eyes narrowed to a slit, but even so, they held an unmistakable gleam of desperation, and perhaps, if forced to look closer, a hint of malice. "Tell me. What do you have?"

* * *

He hated this place. Yes. He must learn to hate it.

Silently, he crept in between the buildings surrounding him, doing his best to stay where no one would notice him. He was light on his feet, so no one would pick up the tread of his footsteps, and he could blend with the most obscure of surroundings, so he needn't fear detection overly much. He'd spent many days of his life avoiding notice. How was now any different?

He knew all of these things and yet somehow, he couldn't stop the peculiar anxiety slithering up and down his spine. This was the most covert operation he had carried out to date. Well. Who was he kidding? It was pretty much the only operation he'd carried out.

This city…it wasn't what he'd become accustomed to. For most of his existence, he had known different. In order to survive, what he feared with all of his heart quickly became his best friend: that, ironically enough, was the everlasting darkness. Nothing could truly penetrate the defenses he'd managed to pull around himself, whether they be of a physical or mental nature.

He existed as nothing, for no one knew his name. He moved with the shadows, for if he and they were one, nothing could touch him. That was the only way he could "live", although, he had never seen himself as one who was living. He did not live, not really. He "existed." His had never been much of a life, but it was what he had. At least he had a purpose now. Perhaps he could even learn to live for it too, if all went as planned. Wasn't that more than he'd ever expected? Couldn't that then, bring him happiness?

Darkness enveloped him. Even now he was frightened by that, but it was also safe. Shadows offered him the solitude he craved, and unlike the masses that tormented, it welcomed him with open arms. That was why he much preferred these back alleys to the main streets. At least he wasn't out in the spotlight that way.

Esthar was everything he always avoided. The too-bright lights, the stares and whispers, the plastic smiles. All of it. These streets had been cruel to him, the people just as vile. It was only natural for him to want them to suffer and yet, it made his stomach churn to think about how many would eventually be massacred. He knew in the end they wouldn't matter. Eventually his heart would hold no twinge of sympathy for them. It wasn't as if they hadn't done plenty to deserve it. That was what _she _said, at least.

Only one thought to notice him. Only one reached out and took his hand. For that reason, she was all that mattered. That was why he was here. He couldn't lose sight of that.

With a start he snapped to attention, realizing he'd been doing exactly that; losing sight of his mission. He shouldn't allow himself to be sidetracked. His mistress would not be pleased and he did, after all, want nothing more than to please her. Finally, she needed him. She needed _him. _Her plan was eighteen years in the making, but he was ready to do whatever he had to in order to make her happy. He had failed her once. He must not fail her again.

_What are you doing? Are you dawdling again?_

A voice screeched inside his head, reminding him that he was after all, never alone.

Steeling his spine and squaring his shoulders, he pulled up the hood of his long black cloak, carefully ensuring that it covered the majority of his face. As intended, it also completely obscured the shock of silver hair he carefully held bound upon the back of his neck. Yes. Things would go well this night. Tonight was the night he would take the first steps toward his mistresses' most glorious moment.

_Of course not, my lady. Everything is falling into place._

Soft laughter resonated through his head, as if carried by the wind. _That's what I thought._ _Don't let me down. I am counting on you, Destin. You understand that, do you not?_

The boy called Destin hugged an arm to his chest and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. For whatever reason, he had a bad feeling about this, but what other option did he have? Without this, he was nothing.

Without this, his existence had no purpose.

_I do. I'm going now. _

He could feel her smile, even across the distance between them. If Destin hadn't known better, he might have said it felt taunting.

A whisper of wind whipped into his face, almost as if it had sprouted ghostly fingers to caress his cheek.

_Good boy._


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Well, this was it.

Yes, Laguna realized how cliché that sounded, but unfortunately, it fit disturbingly well with the situation at hand. As he anxiously paced from one end of his office to the other, he still couldn't believe this meeting was really going to happen. Squall was coming to Esthar to see him. _Willingly._ If he hadn't been part of the conversation himself, he wouldn't have believed it either. Everything had gone pretty much just the way he'd hoped it would.

They'd only talked for a few minutes, much to Laguna's dismay. He'd expected at least a few grumbled complaints and perhaps a well-placed insult or two, but that hadn't been the case. All he'd really had to do to get Squall out here was tell him the same thing he'd told Quistis the previous day, that the results of the testing pointed toward many unsavory possibilities (most including a sorceress or two), and he'd captured the young SeeD commander hook, line and sinker.

The young man had sounded appropriately exasperated, as he normally did when speaking to Laguna, but despite that, convincing him to come to Esthar had been frighteningly easy. He almost wished Squall had resisted more. Underneath the thin layer of annoyance, was an unmistakable eagerness. That eagerness worried him.

He'd sounded strange. Laguna couldn't exactly place how, but he knew it wasn't good. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, or maybe their connection had been bad, but somehow, he didn't think so.

Laguna didn't blame his son one bit for being broken up over the death of the woman he loved, but there was a fine line between justice and vengeance. Squall was walking along that line. Or, worst case scenario, he'd already crossed it.

All the same, he really was glad the young man was coming, but there were so many other emotions swelling within him, Laguna hardly knew which way was up. Was he excited or just plain terrified? Maybe a little bit of both, although as time ticked by, nervousness overpowered everything else.

Seriously, what the hell was he supposed to say? How do you start a conversation like that? _Hey Squall, so glad you could make it. What should we cover first, the murder of your lover, or the fact that I'm your dear old dad? Yes, I'm serious. No, please put the gunblade away."_

Yeah. That would go over well.

With a world-weary sigh, he plopped into his swivel chair and dropped his head onto his desk, the picture of defeat. Was it just him, or did he feel a few new gray hairs coming in?

Just as Laguna was seriously contemplating running to find a mirror, his intercom buzzed, and with an audible gulp, he reached forward to press the button. There was no turning back now.

"Yes?"

"Mr. President, Commander Leonhart is here to see you."

Okay. This was happening.

Well. Shit.

He'd already known what she was going to say, but apparently his stomach didn't get the memo. If possible, it dropped a little farther into his chest.

"Send him in," he replied, in terse, clipped tones that would have made his dearly departed grandfather proud. Laguna winced. He was sorry for that, but it was the only way to keep himself from stuttering. Extremely unusual for him, even he knew that, but if the secretary noticed, she didn't comment as the intercom went dead.

Laguna rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants and straightened a few stacks of paper on the desk, wishing he had taken the time to tidy it up a little. Well, too late now. He could already hear footsteps in the corridor. At least Kiros had thought to pick up the coffee mugs and food wrappers. That was something.

Silently praying his leg wouldn't give out on him, he stood up from his desk as the door to his office swung open. Apparently, fate decided it had tortured him enough for the moment, because without further adieu, in stepped the young SeeD Commander. Laguna's heart skipped and almost sputtered to a stop, as it always did when he first set eyes on him. A little pathetic perhaps, but he just couldn't help himself.

Blue eyes burned into his own emerald ones as Squall came to a stop in front of the President's desk, arms crossed over his chest, gunblade strapped to his side, an unwavering companion. His outfit was the same, trademark leather. His chestnut brown locks of hair fell lazily into his eyes. His demeanor was so similar to hers, Laguna felt as if he'd been repeatedly stabbed in the chest.

Raine's beautiful eyes. Raine's alabaster skin. Raine's regal way of holding herself, and an attitude that screamed, "No nonsense!" It was unreal. Honestly, if he were a lesser man, it might be more than he could take.

But, well…he wasn't a lesser man, was he? He could take it. He could do this. _Deep breaths, Laguna. You're the president of the most powerful country in the world. That has to count for something._

"Hey there! I'm so glad you could make it. How was your trip over? Nice, I hope. Last time you were here, you didn't have much of a chance to take the sights in. Oh please, please, have a seat!" Laguna said, gesturing to a chair placed on the other side of his desk. He suppressed a wince. Like many times in the past, he had to forcibly stop himself from rambling. His nervous habits really were annoying.

Squall raised an eyebrow, but other than that, he didn't comment on Laguna's quite apparent apprehension. He merely nodded his own greeting and took his seat, although he still held himself rigid. If he'd thought the young man was a stiff before, he was ten times worse now. Even so, he was clearly making an attempt at outward calm, and for the most part, he succeeded. If Laguna hadn't been the empathetic person he was, he might not have even noticed the underlying tension. The way his eyes stayed narrowed, his shoulders set.

"It was fine I suppose, although, do forgive me if I'm not in the mood for sight-seeing," Squall replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. Ouch. Well, he was right. Stupid of Laguna to open with something as asinine as asking if he liked the sights. Of course he didn't. He hated everything at the moment.

"Right. I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much now, Squall, but I wish I could have done more for her. Rinoa-"

"Thank you," Squall snapped. "I'm sure she…she would have loved that you cared about her." His voice was tight with emotion, and shadows danced in a myriad of shades and colors deep within his eyes. For a second, there was such sorrow there, Laguna could have broken down and cried on the spot.

A mere second later, the young man blinked and then it was gone, replaced with something that was stoic, yet volatile; calm, yet chaotic. There was an empty madness there. He could see it. He had, after all, looked upon the same eyes whenever he'd gazed into the mirror, for years and years in his youth. Laguna had hated himself and obviously, Squall was far beyond that point.

The uncomfortable silence stretched a few seconds more, and Laguna cleared his throat, unable to stand it any longer. He was a forty seven year old man, damn it. He needed to get his act together…ah, who was he kidding? Age had never meant much to him, and it still didn't. At heart, he would always be a youth of seventeen, although the wisdom he had gained made a lifetime of difference.

No longer was he weak. No longer did he crumble. No longer did he scour the world in an aimless quest, searching for glory that betrayed his hopes and dreams. Like a fool, he had pulled on a soldier's helm that was far too big for him, and for what? To parade around with an army he didn't care for? Fight for ideals he didn't believe in? Masquerade as something he could never be, his true face hidden under countless lies? The pen was mightier than the sword, and because of the path he'd taken, he had gone against this true self many times. He didn't regret it, though. He couldn't. He'd made a lot of mistakes, but in the end, they would always be a part of who he was, and along the way, he had learned that it was okay to love who you were, not long for who you never would be.

He needed to slip on his big boy pants and teach his son that. He had only known he was a father for a few short months, but he already felt great responsibility and love for the young man sitting before him. If it was the last thing he ever did, he swore he would help this boy.

"Sir?"

Laguna looked up upon hearing the words, shaken out of his musings. Squall looked and sounded annoyed now, even if he did appear mildly curious. He was probably wondering what the bloody hell Laguna was thinking about; no doubt, mentally labeling him all different sorts of idiot. That almost put a smile on his face. Squall looked a little bit more like Squall when he scowled at him like that. It was a small comfort, if nothing else.

"Sorry, I just got lost in thought. And please, call me Laguna, will you? 'Sir' and 'Mr. President' makes me sound so old," he said with a sheepish grin, hand reaching up to scratch his forehead almost of its own accord. He hoped his friendliness didn't sound as forced as it felt.

Squall ignored his previous statement, although he did raise his head to look at him, and man, what a sight it was to see. Those piercing blue eyes drilled into him, and try as he might, Laguna couldn't help but feel a strange sense of nostalgia and foreboding all at once. A cold sweat broke out on his brow before he could stop it. The boy was damn intimidating. He really was just like his mother. He loved Raine with all his heart and soul, but the woman scared the shit out of him.

As if to emphasize Laguna's point, Squall's eyes narrowed a fraction more, although his tone was once again stone cold. Even his eyes were dead this time. They gazed steadily forward without a shiver or a twitch.

"I'm just going to be blunt, all right? I'm a very busy man, President Loire_. _I didn't take the time to come out here so we could engage in meaningless small talk. Either we get down to business, or I'm out of here. I'm not here to make friends with you. I'm here to solve the murder of my..." His voice cracked and he paused for a moment, stony facade crumbling at his feet. However, the walls were back up again almost instantly, and that all consuming sorrow was nothing more than a fading dream.

"...my Sorceress," he finished, continuing on as if the delay in his speech had never even happened. Who did Squall think he was fooling? Laguna wasn't always the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn't blind. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could see that he was suffering.

It was time to get serious. Enough veiled friendliness. Enough forced cheer. If Squall wanted straight forward and to the point, Laguna could do that too. He wanted to solve Rinoa's murder not only as a former employer, but as her friend: one that he had never gotten a proper chance to be. No, his dedication wasn't of the same intensity as Squall's. How could it be? But despite that, he had loved her all the same. She was part of the reason Esthar still stood today. He wanted to repay her in the only way he could now: by protecting the world she'd loved. And, in time, the man she'd loved.

One step at a time. In the end, his heart would lead him home.

Just as he was reaching for the files that contained the details of the case, (perhaps it was better to address that first), something he thought could never, ever happen, did happen, and he swore, it would be a cold day in hell before he would ever see it again. The lights flickered, dimmed, then switched back on. Admittedly, it all occurred within the space of two seconds, but it was enough.

Laguna's jaw dropped open. It couldn't be. In all of his years as President, power failure had never even come close to happening. That included flickering lights. If this were any other country, it wouldn't be such a big deal, but they were in Esthar. Esthar, for crying out loud! It was a place of technological beauty, known for it's grandeur. The city that never slept. The powerhouse of the world.

Just by glancing across the table, he could tell that Squall had come to the same conclusion. His eyes had widened ever so slightly, and his lips were a thin, tight line. He seemed as if he were about to say something, however, before either of them could utter a word on the subject, the unthinkable happened. For the _second _time, only worse. The lights flickered again, but this time, they flickered out, and after waiting for ten, agonizing seconds, he assumed they weren't coming back on. Not for awhile, at least.

Hell had officially frozen over.

"How can this be?" Laguna lamented out loud, incredulous.

Squall's deadpan, uninterested persona was now gone. He was focused and already in action. In one fluid motion, he stood up from his seat at the desk, grimly scanning the buildings outside. All they could see were shapes shrouded in darkness, but that wasn't the end of it. The eeriest thing of all? There wasn't a single soul to be heard protesting on the streets. Not a street car could be heard. Not a shuttle, or airship passed by. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing.

Laguna's mind was in such shock, he could hardly form coherent thoughts. Had someone hacked into their mainframe? No. That was _impossible. _Their firewalls were so strong, no hacker had been able to get anywhere in all of the years they were isolated from society, and that was saying thousands had tried. He supposed the transformers and generators running the electricity could have failed, but they were serviced every day to ensure that wouldn't happen. Only Kiros, himself, or Ward could let anyone into the warehouses which held their power sources, so it couldn't be any of the electrical workers who'd gone traitor. Even if someone did manage to get as far as the generators, they wouldn't know how to override the system commands. The code required to bypass the motherboard security system was known only by Laguna himself.

They couldn't have been destroyed either. Those warehouses and the generators themselves were built and reinforced with the best metal and alloy available in the world. The apocalypse could come to pass, and those buildings would still be standing. Odine had even built safeguards around it to ward off sorceresses.

They were impenetrable fortresses, all of them. State of the art security systems, (most comparable to the Lunatic Pandora, which loosely translated to _death_), air-tight patrols at all times, trillions of dollars in the best materials put in to sustain it all...the list was endless.

On top of everything else, he couldn't even begin to imagine why it was so damn quiet out there, and that was really creeping him out. There was always some sort of noise, even in the dead of night. An event like this should be causing mass panic to sweep throughout the city. The silence, the stillness, the darkness. None of it made any sense, and in his experience, when nothing made sense, you were about to be dead.

"Has this ever happened before?" Squall asked, eyes flashing in the shadows. Even with what little the moonlight afforded them, he could see him scanning the room like the soldier he was. "Get down. We can't rule out the possibility of an attack." Laguna knew he was right. He obeyed without complaint, wordlessly sliding behind his desk.

He needn't have bothered with the question. They both knew the answer, but he replied anyway, if only to fill the silence.

"No. Never." This couldn't merely be an attack on him. Realistically, okay, he supposed it could be, but honestly. Who would go this far for one man? This was an attack of another kind; infiltration at it's worst. A cold fist of dread tightened in his chest, pulling and tearing at his heart. His precious Esthar was in grave danger. Somehow, he didn't think _whatever _this was, was disconnected from that fateful murder in Timber. He didn't know how the two events could possibly be related, but Squall and Laguna were going to have to find out. He could only hope they would get that opportunity before it was too late. The puzzle pieces were accumulating and sliding into place, but he couldn't quite see the picture they made.

Why did this situation and all of the clues they had found bother him so much? An entirely unexpected, new sort of threat, and yet it had such a familiar feel to it, he couldn't help but think he should know what was going on here. If Laguna had been in a joking mood, he would laugh and suggest they were stuck in a time warp and that the ever-so-lovely Sorceress Adel was trying to play a trick on her "slaves," as she had called them. Although she was undoubtedly a tyrant, she could also be somewhat childish at times. It would be just like her to cheat her own system and shut off the power just for kicks. What a colossal nut-job. He couldn't be more glad she was...

_Oh. _

_Oh, holy Hyne._

The nagging feeling that he knew something, but didn't. The horrible sense that he should be seeing something he wasn't. The unrelenting fear that this was more than just a murder. An unclear motive and a killer without a name. Was this the reason why? Could such a far-fetched theory possibly hold any value?

I_t couldn't be. No. It can't._

A cold sweat broke out upon his brow, and it was all he could do to stop his hands from trembling as he reached for the gun he kept strapped underneath his desk, suddenly feeling the need to keep it close to him. An unrelenting block of ice had found a home inside of his chest. He could scarcely breathe, so palpable was his dread.

Stupid. What was he getting so worked up for? She was dead. The others had defeated her just before they'd gone to Ultimecia's time, hadn't they? Absurd musings of a man who was getting far too old and paranoid. That was all his worries were.

Except for the fact that it made a twisted sort of sense. Somehow, he just couldn't let it go. He couldn't. And, unfortunately for him, his unwilling companion could sense that.

No words, not even a sound. Squall needed nothing to convey that he was serious. He merely shifted his attention to the President who crouched on the floor beside him, a question in his gaze and the slight cock of his head. Laguna knew right then and there. Now he had to explain. The young man would expect no less. Whether his reaction was going be good or bad was anyone's guess, but what choice did he have?

Laguna's eyes shifted sideways to lock with Squall's, and for the first time that day, he felt that he finally had the young SeeD's undivided attention.

"I know it doesn't make any sense, and you're going to think I'm insane, but hear me out." Laguna paused, the words caught in his throat. When no further input from Squall was forthcoming, he pressed on, hoping to Hyne that he wouldn't regret this. Most of all, he hoped to hell he was wrong.

"She isn't dead. She never was."

* * *

There we have it, my friends. Hope you enjoyed this installment of Vengeance. I'm as excited as you are! Well, maybe not quite, because I know what's going on, but I can't wait to write it and hear everyone's reactions!

Thanks to everyone who reads, alerts, reviews, or favorites the story, etc. etc. I love you all ;). Your support means the world!


	5. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: **_….I know. I've become...(gulp) One of _those. _I'm sorry. I'm really sorry ;_;

I can feel the pitchforks sticking out of my back, and I don't blame you, because I haven't updated in over a month. Shame on me...I got sidetracked by so many things...the troubles of real life, and other fanfiction too. But, here it is. I promise, I'll try harder to update soon next time. I won't keep you anymore. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4**

"What are you talking about? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Squall's voice was soft, although to his slight dismay, he knew it was tinged with hostility. So much for keeping calm and collected. As he listened to the President's words, he simply couldn't help but feel the emotions he worked so hard to suppress wash over him as strongly as a tidal wave in the middle of a tsunami. They put a really bad taste in his mouth; jeopardized the precious bit of control Squall was hanging onto by a thread and nearly sent it tumbling over the edge right then and there. Everything about this situation had trap written all over it, and he didn't like that one little bit. It was just what he needed right now. He was already a man on the edge. He wasn't foolish enough to believe otherwise.

_Who wasn't dead?_

From his vantage point, all he could make out was Laguna's silhouette, but he didn't need his eyes to see. The man was frightened. Squall could almost smell it, the tension was so thick in the air. Never before had he felt such a shocking sense of dread from this man in his presence, not even within the memories he had lived through himself using Ellone's power. As much as Squall hated to admit it, the way his normally happy-go-lucky companion was behaving unsettled him. Why was Laguna acting this way? Yes, of course he would be spooked by the fact that the city of eternal light was suddenly engulfed in darkness. Yes, he would be wondering how and why it was possible, coming up with theories that ranged from plausible to down right ridiculous, but all the same...why? Why would he say something like that? Squall didn't understand. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

_Who wasn't dead...?_

One second passed. Two. Three. Still, Esthar's president didn't move...perhaps he couldn't.

"Laguna!" Squall hissed, barely suppressing the beast within, ignoring the urge to lash out and choke the answers he wanted out of him. There was only so much patience he had left within himself to grasp. He _needed _an answer. A clear response. A move. A sound. _Anything. _He was going crazy just sitting here, waiting for something that might never come. Perhaps this was all a dream after all...everything, ever since she had gone. That would be nice, wouldn't it? Yes...very nice indeed.

If he hadn't known better, he'd say the older man crouched in front of him had read his mind. In that very same second, he raised his head, scooting ever closer to Squall with a death grip on a machine gun. It was chilling, in a way...he knew that, even as he looked upon the sight with the eyes of a trained soldier, eyes that had become the embodiment of death and chaos all at once. No matter what he did, that horrible gleam could not and would not be tamed. Squall supposed he would have to live with that. Hopefully, he could tamper it down enough to the point where those who mattered would not notice.

Laguna opened his mouth to speak, although for a moment, no sound emerged. Almost as if he were screaming...endlessly. Silently. "Adel. Adel... she's alive. Don't you see? It makes sense. Sort of. What if she's alive?"

Blank. For the first time in months, Squall's mind was completely blank. Surely he was joking...right? Had the president finally snapped under the multiple strains life had put him through? Had Squall? Was it time to find them both a couple of those pretty little white jackets that helped people in insane asylums hug themselves at night?

...yup. He was crazy, all right. Both of them must be. The only question was, how crazy _was _crazy?

"You're kidding." It was the only thing left to say. He couldn't even bring himself to say it in the form of a question. Squall was slowly slipping back into stoic again.

"No. Just hear me out, okay? I know it sounds stupid, and impossible, and completely insane, but please...hear me out," Laguna cried. His voice sounded strange; desperate, pleading...and yet, it was determined, steadfast...strong. The older man still looked shaken, his skin pale as it shone with sweat in the faint light afforded to them by the moon, but he was already recovering, or so it seemed. How was it that Laguna could bounce back from anything the way he always did? Absurd.

Unfair.

Fine, Squall would humor him. It wasn't as if they had anything else to do at the moment, because until the SeeD Commander knew more of this situation, he and Laguna were not going anywhere. If this was the work of some resistance faction or another, people certainly wouldn't expect the President to stay in his own office. They were safe enough. For now. All the same, they couldn't be sitting ducks forever. He had to come up with a fool-proof plan, and fast.

For the time being, however, he stayed silent and gazed at Laguna, face frozen into a mask he hoped was neutral enough. It was all the answer the president was getting, and thankfully, he seemed to understand that for himself. Almost immediately, he started talking.

"I can't explain it very well, but this entire situation reeks of Adel, Squall...I could read her like a book, and this is just like something she might do. Cheating her own security systems and wreaking havoc in a country she still wants back is something she would probably wet her pants in anticipation of doing! The chick hates my guts, for obvious reasons. Not to mention, her brutality is suited just right for a murder like Rinoa's. If we could gather enough evidence to prove this-"

"Don't speak her name!" Squall screamed. Although his tone was barely above a whisper, he knew that he looked like a mad man. His breath came in harsh, stuttering gasps, and he held his head in his hands, fighting for control that he wasn't sure was there. Where was this coming from? His rage was no longer under wraps. He'd been able to keep under control the last time Laguna had spoken her name, but just barely. Now it was as if that single utterance of a word was all that it took to open the floodgates. Rinoa...Rinoa. She would know what to do. Squall could still see her standing right beside him. What would _she _do? Would she be able to keep his mind sane? Keep him on track? Squall could still see her...oh Hyne, Squall could still see her. She would turn her head to look at him, throw him a crooked smile, or toss her head back for a laugh. Then she would show the world what she could do; snap out those beautiful wings and take flight.

...beautiful wings that were broken and covered in blood.

"Squall?" Something touched his shoulder and he lashed out at the shock, pushing whoever or whatever it was back without thinking of the consequences. Luckily, the person crouched beside him was able to keep their balance. That was when he remembered...Laguna. Of course. _Shit. _

Squall fought to get his breathing under control. He had to snap out of it and figure out what to do. Laguna was currently under his charge, unofficial or not. It was going to be his job to keep him safe. If he let this man die for his own careless mistakes...well, that just might speed up his own death even more. For reasons he couldn't explain, he somehow knew that the world would be a bleaker place without Laguna in it. Squall knew that...he knew all of these things and more, but he still couldn't seem to stop. He was hyperventilating now, his entire body shaking and shuddering as if it would break within a second. He couldn't stop. Why couldn't he _stop? _He didn't know what to do...he didn't know anything anymore.

"Calm down, okay? Slow your breathing, Squall, it's going to be all right. Come on, can you do that for me?" Laguna murmured, voice so gentle, he could have been speaking to a child. Without hesitation, the president reached out and took both of Squall's hands within his own, rubbing small circles near the tips of his knuckles. "Listen to my voice."

For once, Squall decided to do as he was told and follow the president's example. He closed his eyes and concentrated, listening to Laguna's voice as he murmured soft words, words that currently made no sense, for he couldn't pick them up if he'd tried to. All he knew was that someone was holding his hands within both of their own, rubbing small, comforting circles the way sis used to do. For all that he was worth (admittedly, not much anymore) Squall attempted to slow his breathing...breathe, breathe...just breathe. Eventually, he succeeded in reducing harsh gasps into longer, shuddering breaths. His shaking, unbelievably close to that of a seizure before, was reduced to a slight tremor...and he opened his eyes once again, to see Laguna gazing straight into his face.

Now that he could think a little more clearly, he recognized this. It was a panic attack. Right in the middle of a situation as dire as the collapse of Esthar itself? Fantastic. Perfect timing, Squall. "H-How did you...how did you know what to do?" he asked, unable to keep himself from stuttering. Galbadian soldiers didn't get that kind of training unless they were strictly a part of the medical division, so that couldn't be it. Besides, it had been so long since then, he couldn't have remembered much of it even if he had been trained to deal with such things.

Laguna smiled softly. It wasn't a happy smile, but it wasn't necessarily bitter, either. It was...accepting. That was the only word Squall could find that would fit his expression. "I've dealt with panic attacks for years, especially when I was younger. Almost got me killed a few times, too. Kiros and Ward were good about it, though. Sometimes after a battle I would just break down, especially if I'd had to kill a lot of people. They always understood, helped me through it...but enough about me. Feeling any better now?"

He would never truly recover, and he knew it. Squall couldn't say that, though. Instead he just shrugged and looked away, shocked to find tears threatening to escape his eyes. "Not really." He didn't trust himself to say anything more. His voice might shatter and break under the strain.

Suddenly, he realized that his hands were still grasped within Laguna's, and they gripped him tighter still before he could protest otherwise. "That's what happens when you bottle it up for too long. I should know. I tried so hard to keep it all in, but in the end, that only made things worse. I wasn't dealing with any of my own problems and neither are you. I know it hurts, Squall. Raine's death still cuts me deep, even though she has been gone for such a long time. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't go on living. She would have wanted that for me, and I'm sure your girl would want the same for you." Luckily, he had enough tact to know not to say her name again. Squall was thankful for that and for his words, despite the fact that they did no good. Squall was scum for letting her be killed. He didn't deserve anything.

Rather than argue with him, however, he merely nodded and took a shaky breath, tugging his hands away from Laguna's and reaching for his gunblade first, then the Guardian Forces within his mind. Why hadn't his weapons and equipment been confiscated at the door? Even he shouldn't be trusted enough with a weapon in the president's office. Dangerous. Squall would have to speak to Ward about that.

He knew he was pushing his issues aside (again) but he couldn't afford distractions right now, no matter what Laguna said. He would keep it together long enough to get Laguna out of this mess. This he swore. However, as he got to his feet and began to scan the room and the perimeter outside, the elder man only seemed more worried rather than relieved. For once, he looked his age, his forehead wrinkled up in concern. For a moment, it seemed as if he wanted to say something more, but before he could, the sound they both heard outside stopped them in their tracks.

_What the hell?_ It sounded suspiciously like static. Either that, or a few thousand bees were buzzing around out of nowhere. Unlikely. Laguna glanced at him, and their eyes met. Surely they both couldn't be hearing things.

Squall strode toward the window, Laguna just behind him. Vaguely somewhere within his mind, he thought he should tell the president to stay away from it just in case, but he was so bewildered by the sight in front of him, the notion somehow fled from his thoughts. Still, not a soul could be seen wandering the streets or otherwise, but Esthar was no longer completely dark. Instead, the television screens that were suspended in various places throughout the city were illuminated in an ominous, glowing black, with hundreds, perhaps thousands of scrolling red letters melding together to form a single message. Repeated over and over...chilling, and yet mockingly familiar, at least to the young SeeD Commander.

_Iwillneverletyouforgetaboutme._

A trickle of sweat slithered its way down his cheek, and it had nothing to do with the weather. Perhaps there was more to this crazy theory of Laguna's than he'd thought.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shorter than I anticipated, but this is exactly what I wanted for this chapter and this is how it will stay. I'll update sooner this time, I promise. Hope you enjoyed it ;)


	6. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note:**_ Yeah, I know. What? Don't look at me like that, I updated, didn't I? It has been even longer than a month (again) but I still got around to it eventually, right?

...sorry about the wait ;_; Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter 5**

"Squall, what-"

The young SeeD Commander raised a hand, silencing Laguna before he could voice the questions buzzing around in his head. That in itself was enough to make the older man apprehensive, but turning his head to look at him turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Squall's face seemed to have paled two shades further than before as he gazed upon the red letters scrolling across the screens, free hand limp at his side. If not for the steady sounds of breathing, Laguna could have mistaken him for a corpse in the faint crimson light reflecting into his office through the glass.

_Iwillneverletyouforgetaboutm e._

Huh. The President had just about had it with vague messages and subtle clues. Now what the hell was that supposed to mean? This whole scheme better not be an elaborate practical joke by some random psychopath. Nah, that couldn't be right. He'd definitely been watching too many over dramatized movies lately. Who could blame him for coming to that conclusion, though? I will never let you forget about me? Cryptic. What kind of person would-

_She_ would. Of course she would. Just to have a laugh at their expense, if nothing else. Adel's wish had always been to go down in history. To never be forgotten by anyone. Ever. Laguna staggered forward as his leg buckled underneath him, and he had to brace his weight against the glass walls to keep himself from falling down. Well, with one hand, anyway. He was holding his machine gun in the other. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten about it.

...there were so many things wrong with that.

Where was he? Ah, yes. _Not_ panicking. Of course.

Oh dear Hyne. Of all the times for Laguna to be right, it had to be about this, didn't it? He would have much preferred being wrong in this situation. Hadn't he gotten rid of her for good? Damn it! How could this be? In what screwed-up dimension did it make sense? Adel was supposed to be dead. The woman was like a cockroach. He knew he was starting to sound like a broken record, but seriously. She flat out refused to just _die_ already.

...he was losing his mind, wasn't he? Laguna wasn't a malicious man by any means, and yet now he was thinking horrible thoughts like that? Completely unlike him, even if she was a deranged psychopath.

Laguna sighed as he rested his head against the surface in front of him, closing his eyes and allowing himself a moment of reprieve from the harsh realities of the situation. Nothing was turning out right here at all. And to think, all he'd ever really wanted out of this was to do right by the memory of a friend and claim the son he'd never known he had. To make everything all right again. So then, why was everything so _wrong_? No matter how many times he had asked himself that question over the years, he never got an answer, and in his experience, things always got worse before they got better. He knew that, but all the same, that didn't mean he had to like it. He would find an answer. Someday, somehow.

Abruptly, something grabbed his arm and held it in a vice-like grip. For a moment Laguna was startled, but he didn't have much time for anything other than that. Next thing he knew, he was being pulled backward by Squall, who then proceeded to (rather roughly) shove him in between two bookshelves, completely hiding him from view of the windows.

He winced. Right. Should have thought of that himself. Those walls were bullet proof, but Laguna knew it was a stupid idea to stand directly in front of them under such dire circumstances. He might as well be wearing a blinking neon sign that said, 'Kill Me.'

Squall had been uncomfortable with the excessive use of glass from the very moment he'd stepped into this room the first time, and he had said so without a hint of remorse or hesitation. He'd said that it was a hazard. That these beautiful walls Laguna loved so much were 'a screaming crystal death trap.' For the first time, the president agreed with him. He was feeling beyond vulnerable, especially now that this room was no longer so dark. Any assassin worth his weight could find a way to hit him from a nearby rooftop.

Before Laguna could voice any of this out loud, Squall glanced back from where he was crouching in front of him, jaw clenched so tight, the president almost thought the bones might shatter. "You were right. I almost hate to say it, but you were right. That message is the same one the monitors in Timber said before when I was there on a mission for the Forest Owls...back when Adel was still out in space interfering with the radio waves," Squall replied, and though his voice was hushed, Laguna heard him loud and clear.

So that was why the SeeD looked so tense. Not that his panic attack had helped matters. It was a wonder he was even functioning in his current mental condition. Before this, Laguna's Adel theory had seemed like nothing more than the ramblings of an idiot, but now he had proof that he could see right in front of those ice blue eyes. There was no denying it, and maybe that frightened his son on some level. As much as that little fun fact should have put Laguna into a state of panic (hell, he was the SeeD who'd taken down Ultimecia), he was admittedly, a bit relieved. Squall wasn't nearly as dead inside as he believed himself to be. That much was obvious from the reaction he was having to everything happening in Esthar, and, for that matter, the mere mention of his lost love's name.

Okay. Note to self: do not, under any circumstances, repeat that name. Ever. Well, for now at least. Laguna was going to have to help him address that issue sometime in the future, even if it wasn't going to be pretty.

"So, what do you think we should do?" Laguna asked, voice steady, inquisitive. Keep him focused and moving; that was Laguna's game. It was the best thing for him now, and as it turned out, he didn't need to spare a single second to worry about that. Squall was in the zone, all right. No need to worry. No need to fret.

Then why did he feel like pulling his hair out from the roots?

Okay, so Laguna wasn't exactly calm either. He really didn't have any idea where to go from here.

Luckily, Squall seemed to have some kind of plan. At least, he hoped so.

"One thing is for sure, we can't stay here. We have to figure out exactly what is going on, and we have to do it fast. Sitting in one place like a couple of stunned idiots may be just what our adversary is expecting of us. Is there any way out of this room other than the obvious?"

"Of course. Having only one entrance and exit would be a pretty dumb move for the Commander in Chief's office."

"Show me," he barked. He spoke in terse, clipped tones, gunblade held at his side as if it were an extension of his arm. There was no sign of trembling whatsoever, much to Laguna's relief. Although, he couldn't honestly say he was surprised. He may have been nothing more than a vulnerable teenaged boy in some aspects of his life, but this particular seventeen-year-old had taken on the most powerful sorceress of all time and hadn't even batted an eyelash in response. If there was anything he could do, it was stand tall in the face of danger.

Then it hit him. Hit him with the force of a speeding bullet. Wait. Wait a second. He took that back, he did have a plan. Laguna knew the young SeeD had ideas of his own, but he couldn't allow it. Not now, not yet. Not without his friends. Laguna had to make sure Kiros and Ward were okay before they did anything else. What if they were stuck in the palace? What if they were hurt? Or worse, dead?

His mind flashed through the events of the past hour, and he struggled not to remember that his city was so dark and cold, silent and still. That his city, once so bursting with life, was a shell of its former glory. Unbearable. Unbelievable. What would he do if they were dead?

What if _all_ of them were dead?

"No. No, we have to-"

Squall's eyes narrowed to slits, and he turned on him with an expression that was so void of emotion, Laguna had to stop himself from shuddering. Phew, what a poker face. It was almost...creepy. How quickly he could just turn off all sense of feeling was uncanny. "Absolutely not. It's pointless, Laguna."

"But, if we-"

"Do you honestly believe they wouldn't be here helping us already if they were able to? There isn't a single soul to be heard outside. Whatever has befallen the rest of the citizens may have happened to Kiros and Ward as well. What we need to do is get moving. If we can make it to the command center, there might be something we can do. Hopefully Odine is still up and around, he can tell us if there is any sorcery involved. Then and only then, will we be able to work toward a solution to whatever the hell is going on. And, if your theory is correct, we will be working to find a murderer as well as the culprit for this madness."

Laguna bit his lip. The words made sense, but they grated on him. Oh, how they _grated_ on him. Bile rose steadily within his throat, but Laguna choked it back down, struggling to keep his act together. His people needed him. His friends needed him.

They needed him, and he couldn't do shit to help them.

Damn it. "What if they're dead, Squall? What if all of them are dead?" He hissed, voice cracking under the strain, and for a moment, in spite of everything, he still had enough sense to be surprised by the hysteria in his tone. Apparently he wasn't so good at keeping it under wraps. A smirk touched his lips. Losing his touch?

Squall's grip on the hilt of his weapon tightened ever so slightly, but that was the only outward sign that betrayed his own disquiet. If Laguna hadn't known better, he would have though he truly was the cold-hearted soldier he claimed to be. "Then there's nothing we can do for any of them, is there? Whether they're dead or not, we are still alive, and we must avenge those who have fallen. We may not want anyone to be lost in conflict, but in the end what we want doesn't matter, now does it?" Bitterness. Emptiness. Laguna didn't need to look at him to hear it in his voice. Didn't need to see his face to know what he would find there. And the bitch of it was, he couldn't blame him for it even if he'd wanted to. He couldn't blame him, but the thought still frightened him.

His son sounded exactly the same as the young Galbadian soldier he himself had once claimed to be.

So, what could he really say to the man? Laguna stared at his feet, desperately trying to look interested in something on the floor. For some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to meet his son's gaze as he uttered his response. To him, it was almost as if he were admitting defeat. Giving up. He didn't like that one little bit, but Squall was right. They had to solve this mystery if they wanted to help anyone. Finding Kiros and Ward would be a little like finding a needle in a haystack, and besides, he didn't even know where they were. Right now, it would waste too much time. Placing the lives of two above the lives of thousands would be just plain selfish. He and Squall would be doing the right thing by making their way to the command center instead. His friends, knowing them, would scold him if he did anything otherwise.

Then why did he feel like such a piece of shit for following through?

"Okay, you win. You're right...I know. I suppose we should get moving then, before something else happens," Laguna murmured. Even he was surprised by how solemn his own voice sounded. Squaring his shoulders, he slowly rose from his crouching position, waiting for Squall to step aside so he could make his way to where the secret exit was. It was time to swallow his pride and do what he had to do.

Apparently, Squall took pity on him and understood how torn he felt, because something in his stony expression softened, and his eyes held a little bit of warmth as he gazed into Laguna's face. "Look. Maybe later, if we can find a safer place to hole up in, I'll go see if I can't find out where they might be. Me and only me, all right? We can't risk you, so you have to stay where it's safe. Got it?"

Laguna smiled. Not a chance in hell, but he'd let him have his way for now. It was very compassionate of him to even suggest that much, and he was deeply touched by this gesture of kindness. If he'd been alone, he may have wanted to cry...he'd always believed there was no shame in crying, but he wasn't quite ready to cash in his man card with his son there. Maybe another day, when they were both a bit more mentally stable. Keep it together, Laguna.

"That means a lot to me. Thank you."

Squall shrugged and looked away, trying at nonchalance, but Laguna knew what it took for him to put himself on the line like that, especially when his request came from purely personal feelings, something that normally wouldn't phase the young SeeD. A thought occurred to him, one that, in spite of everything, brought a grin to his face. Caught red handed. One explanation came to mind, and one only. Yeah, that was it. There was no way the young man could deny it now. He might try but Laguna wasn't letting him get away with it.

"Hey...you're starting to _care_ about me, aren't you?" Laguna asked, wearing a smile so wide, it must have rivaled Selphie's most cheerful grin.

"Hmph. Don't put words in my mouth, I never said that," he replied, belligerent and haughtier than usual, but although his voice said one thing, his face told Laguna another. He could swear there was a light blush coloring Squall's cheeks as he turned away in a huff, moving over so Laguna could creep past him and to the secret entrance. And what thrilled him most of all? That little bit of warmth sparkled in his son's eyes again, and it gave Laguna hope. Hope for the future, for the world...for everything.

Squall was lost, but he wasn't broken. Not forever. Not beyond repair. He could pull him back from death's black embrace, but the question still remained, and it sent shivers running violently up and down his spine. If Laguna were to reveal the truth, would he even get the chance?

* * *

"No, pleaze..."

He heard his own voice as if from a distance, vaguely registered sharp jolts of pain as scraped-up hands scrambled across tile, as he struggled to drag himself further back...struggled to get away.

Click. Click. Click. He was coming for him. Eyes far from adjusted to the dimly-lit gloom, he watched as the hooded Angel of Death stalked ever forward...no, not stalked. Nothing so crude as that. His movements were almost flowing, and graceful.

Even now the other man was full of awe as he took them in. As he remembered how he'd studied, poked, prodded...never had he thought his research would put him in a position like this. It was him, wasn't it? He would know this presence anywhere, could almost sense it in the air.

If it was true, his fate was sealed. Shaking, eyes now blurred with tears, he struggled to find purchase on the slippery, flat surface, dragging himself backward once again...only to hit a wall. A wall that was solid, and stiff. No secret doors, no more escape. His final death sentence. The last place he would ever reach with this old, earthly body.

Death had come to greet him. He knew it for certain.

A red hot flame smoldered quietly above the man's right hand, a sword in its twin. The hood of his heavy black cloak was pulled down over his forehead, but his face was showing, and his eyes were green...that horrible, beautiful, luminescent green. A green that he had gazed upon for hours and hours on end as he imagined the wonders, the magic they could contain. That little boy had been his big break, even more so than Guardian Forces and Ellone. A specimen that was his and only his. No Adel, no other scientists. _He _had discovered him and he would reap all of the benefits.

If only...if only. Why had he ever allowed that boy to get away from him? Now he was a man, and he most certainly wasn't going to listen to a word his former captor said.

The man shook his head, and as that deep black hood slipped off and away, any shadow of a doubt he might still have was now gone. This was the 'boy' all right. One could never mistake him. Not in a thousand millenia and beyond.

Pale, almost porcelain-white skin. A jawline that was neither broad, nor narrow. Those green, _green _eyes, nearly emerald in hue and sparkling with the magic they only just spoke of. Horrific white scars stretched across both cheeks. So, the wounds had never healed right. As he'd thought. Oh, what a shame. They were the only flaw to his perfection. (Odine would never forget how furious he'd been when he'd discovered them. He'd told those imbeciles not to touch his face).

He'd grown up to be fairly tall, for he stood at just below six feet. Long, silver locks were held and bound in a knot at the nape of his neck, although the pony-tail now hung haphazardly over his shoulder. The last time he'd seen him, the 'boy's' hair had been chopped, for it was so beautiful, he himself couldn't resist taking the strands to analyze (he'd never seen such a shade!). Now it was grown out to its former glory once again, hanging well past his collar bone. Of course. It must have been at least eighteen years since then.

"The time has come. You know why I'm here, don't you?"

His voice was smooth, almost old-world in quality, and the words it spoke sent the doctor into a full-blown panic. He wasn't ready to die! His work was not yet done. So many things left for him to discover!

"Destin, my boy, can't ve talk about thiz?" Yes, that had been his name. He remembered now. Perhaps he could sweet-talk him into being lenient. This could still have a favorable outcome, could it not?

"You never wished to talk to me, no matter how I begged and pleaded. Now you want to talk? It is too late for that."

"Never too late, my boy, never too late! Come, ve vill sit down and discuss thingz. I vill give you anything you vant...please, anything!" The doctor could hear himself begging, pleading as this young man, as Destin used to do. The tables were turned, and his own pleas had just as much effect on his attacker as the little boy's cries had on him so long ago.

"We have nothing to speak about." For a moment, he met Destin's eyes, and he was shocked to find that there was no malice in them. All he could see was hurt, pain...remorse, and sadness.

"I do not want to kill anyone, but you've left me with no choice. My mistress wishes it. From your actions in the past, the way you have treated me and many others...you've brought it upon yourself. I wish there was another way, but the world is black enough without you."

Destin started forward once again, and this time, he wasn't going to stop. His right hand remained suspended with that ball of fire floating just above his palm...his left still held a sword, and it was extended towards him.

What was he going to do? Destin would torture him for sure! The doctor would do the same in the young man's position. Oh, he would put him through hell. Destin was going to make him suffer, he knew it! There was no way out, no way anywhere! He was trapped. Trapped, trapped, trapped, trapped.

Dr. Odine screamed for a fraction of a second, although it was not to last. He was dead before he hit the floor, before the blade had pierced all the way through his skull.

* * *

So, there we have it. I certainly hope it lived up to your expectations. I think the reason this one took me so long is because I redid Destin's back story so many times. I've had a general outline since the beginning of this story, but then I decided I didn't like it, deleted it, and came up with something new. Didn't like it, deleted it, and so on until I came up with the current, one that I am satisfied with.

Yeah, that last part was in Dr. Odine's point of view, but I wasn't about to include the annoying speech impediment in his thoughts as well. That would be a giant pain in the ass to do.

Thanks for sticking with me, and reviews are always appreciated ^_^


	7. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note: _**This has been a busy month for me. I moved (again), so I've been basically working and unpacking. Working, and unpacking. Working, and then...you guessed it. Unpacking. There wasn't much time for me to update, and for that I am deeply sorry. But, here is the chapter as promised. I certainly hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter 6**

Squall had never seen anything so chilling. And that, coming from one of the fated children, was saying something.

Seeing death and destruction was one thing. He certainly couldn't say he found it pleasant, but he was a soldier through and through. Drawing his gunblade from its sheath felt as natural as breathing. Cutting the enemy down in a head to head duel, large scale on the battlefield, or even carrying out an assassination, was nothing but more of the norm. For the most part, although it left him saddened on some level, he was largely unaffected by it. Aside from when he had lost _her, _of course.

_ Don't think about her. You're still the Commander of Balamb Garden. A first-rate SeeD in his prime. Act like it. Suck it up and deal with it, Leonhart._

He couldn't allow himself to be affected. He'd sworn against it. Not just after the most recent upheaval in his life, but before he had even become a SeeD in the first place. That was the way it had to be. Where would the world have ended up if he hadn't stood strong and firm in the face of adversity? In Ultimecia's hands, that's where. It was _his _job to fight when everyone else has given up. It was _his_ job to set an example for future generations to come.

But _this..._this was something else. Perhaps even worse than the chaos of time compression itself.

Presently, he stood silent as a stone in the house he had entered a few moments before, Laguna at his side. This was but one among several dozen dwellings they had entered, but unfortunately, the results were just the same. All lights and electric appliances were off (of course), though a family of four resided here. None of them were responding, but they weren't dead. No...they were very much alive, but nothing was waking them up.

Squall stepped up to the kitchen where two people were waiting. Apparently, they had been in the middle of drinking a fresh cup of tea. A woman and a man sat facing each other; each held a teacup in a loose, precarious grip, and various different sorts of cakes and cookies were set out at the center of the table. One was slumped onto the cold, marble surface. The other leaned back in his chair. Their eyes were closed, their breathing was even, and when the young commander held two fingers to their wrists to check the strength of their pulse, it was steady; the skin beneath his hand, warm.

In the adjoining living room, Laguna was checking the children (two _very young_ boys_)_, some sort of video game controllers lying on the floor as they slept together on the couch. Truly, they appeared to be sleeping. The younger boy lay slumped over his elder brother's lap. The elder, resting his head on the younger's back.

"Esuna," Squall murmured, hand raised, and the warmth of the spell engulfed the family of four. Like so many times before, there was absolutely no visible change. No change at all.

"Dispel." It wouldn't work, he knew.

It didn't.

There were other things he could try, but there was no point. He had gone through every single motion he could on every group before this one.

Laguna looked up from where he crouched next to the children, sadness in his emerald gaze as he met Squall's eyes. Despite the fact that his own troubles were more than he could bear, despite the fact that he struggled to keep the darkness at bay day by painful day, he still had the compassion in his heart to feel for the man in front of him. Squall often called him a moron, but when it came right down to it, he had led Esthar through eighteen years of prosperity. It took someone impressive to do that. The young SeeD commander had all that he could handle just running one Garden, and there were quite a few people to help him, too. While Laguna did have Kiros and Ward to take some of the workload, it was Squall's understanding that the president did much of it all on his own.

The people here were content. They felt safe, happy...free. Hard won stability had been given to them, and all because of the man who crouched before him, looking on with a frantic sort of desperation...desperation that spoke volumes with every wrinkle and worry line on his face. He had given up the best years of his life to help the people of Esthar, and what did he get in the end? His work, his passion...his hopes, crashing and burning before his eyes.

So yes, Squall Leonhart, self-proclaimed ice prince, felt something for a man he'd once thought was nothing but a foolish dream. It was stupid. It was wrong. It was human, and emotional, and _everything _he'd sworn against. All the same, he couldn't help it. Laguna Loire was creeping into his heart, and he had no idea what to do about it.

_ Ignore it. I don't need this right now. I don't need to care about anything or anyone. I can't do that again. I won't._

"Whatever this is, if it is some sort of magic, it's too powerful for me. None of my spells have any effect at all." Stick with the facts. Those were safe. Cold. Hard. _Facts._

"What's going on here, Squall? What's wrong with them? It's almost as if they're sleeping, but...I'm wracking my brain here and all I'm coming up with is, 'This makes no sense' and 'What the hell!'"

"Unless you were right, and Sorceress Adel is behind everything. In which case, I think 'what the hell' still applies." At first, Squall had been contemplating having the older man committed when he'd started rambling about a woman who'd been dead for three months, but now it was looking more and more like a real possibility. She had plenty of reasons to hate Esthar and Laguna, of that he was certain. And, as far as the..._murder_ went, Adel was also a power hungry tyrant. Why wouldn't she go after the only other sorceress, one who would undoubtedly stand in her way? It would eliminate a conflict before it even started, and she would gain new powers in the process.

But there were many problems with this theory. Many, many problems. Namely, _how the hell _had she survived if it was true? He'd dealt the finishing blow himself.

Laguna grimaced. "I certainly hope not. Something doesn't make sense, though. Adel was formidable to say the least, but she wouldn't have had the power to put all of these people into such a state, even if we take into account the fact that she might now have R- um, new magic. Besides, for that matter, even if she _did _have enough power to do this, she wouldn't have bothered. She'd have just killed them all. That's how she always dealt with 'heretics,' which is the category everyone in Esthar falls into now."

Squall pointedly ignored Laguna's slip-up. "There would be no one left for her to rule over."

"She's an ego-maniac, I doubt she cares. Me, myself, and I is plenty for her. Always has been. Why do you think she had to forcibly take people as candidates for a successor?"

The more he thought about it, the more he knew that the elder man was right. Laguna seemed to have Adel's personality mapped out perfectly. "All right, fair enough. But if what you're saying is true, it must be someone else who did this to the citizens of Esthar. Who could have possibly been capable of such a feat? Are they working with Adel, or does she have nothing to do with this after all?"

Laguna chuckled; a bitter sound that sent shivers up his spine. "Oh no, she's involved with this, all right. There's no question in my mind. I can feel it, Squall. I can feel it in my bones."

So that was how it was, then. Intuition. In the past, he had placed no confidence in it at all, but now...well, it was _Laguna. _Somehow, it just fit his personality. Maybe he was on the right track. Was there something to be said about following your heart?

...Did he really just think that? Squall Leonhart, 'King of the Emotional Cripples,' as Seifer had dubbed him? Now Squall _knew _he needed a vacation. He was half tempted to say so.

"Then we have a lot of problems on our hands," he replied instead as he sighed and looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. His stomach lurched as he looked upon this small Estharian family, frozen and still. They didn't even have a chance to register what was happening to them before they were stricken senseless. There were slack smiles still visible on their faces, as if they'd been stricken mid-sentence. Was this an act of kindness, or would killing them have been better? He supposed that depended on what 'this' really was.

"Let's go. Stay close to me," he murmured. Grimly, Laguna follow just behind him, and they trekked to the door together.

It was time they moved on to the command center. Squall almost wished they would find Adel standing inside, waiting for them. Their questions would be answered. Some of them, anyhow. At least they would finally know what they were dealing with.

At least he could look into those evil red eyes, and know if she had killed _her._

And, if indeed she had, he could make her _pay. _He could make her _suffer. _Suffer as he had. Maybe then she would understand what it was to lose everything. Squall would take that power she loved so much, and smash it beneath the heel of his boot.

Softly, he smirked in the faint lunar light, and although Laguna was staring at him with a concerned expression on his face, Squall didn't care. This beast beneath his breast would have release. Whether he liked it or not, it would break away from his control, most likely sooner rather than later.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It wouldn't come off.

The crimson liquid was all over his sword. It was spread across the floor in a massive pool where Dr. Odine collapsed, and even though the very last drops had been bled from his body long ago, even though his eyes had been staring sightlessly for hours now, Destin couldn't get over it.

He couldn't get it off his blade. It wouldn't come off. It wouldn't come off.

The air smelled dirty and metallic: the way it always had after Destin's 'penance,' sessions. That horrible smell. That horrible, dreadful smell of rusty iron, iron that tasted like copper as he bit into his tongue. To keep himself from crying out, of course. He half succeeded.

The plans were in motion. Everything was ready for when the president and the knight finally wandered in here. He was to engage them, and then confine them.

But, he didn't...he couldn't...

_ What is the matter with you? Odine may be dead, but what about everyone else? What did I tell you about disobeying me?_

Ah, there she was. He'd been expecting her intrusion. She was angry with him again. Destin had already known it would happen. He'd been expecting her condemnation from the moment he'd decided to spare all of those people. What he wasn't expecting, was the confusion that hearing her voice brought him. Destin was doubting her. Again. What a disloyal subject he was, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

_I merely did not deem your methods necessary, my lady. Who would be left in your empire? Many who wronged you are already gone, are they not? These people are just descendants of the heretics._

_ Merciful fool. Kindness gets you nowhere. Being so docile and forgiving is a weakness! Look where it led you throughout your life. How many times must I tell you? Embrace it! Embrace the hatred in your heart!_

Destin was deeply troubled. Didn't she want to be happy? For him, Destin, to be happy? She had told him that her deepest wish was to eliminate the bad and usher in the good. She'd told him that she wanted peace, and that there were many, many people in the world who had always kept her from that. No one had stuck by her. Her knight had left her long ago. No companions...not even a successor to her legacy. He'd felt for her plight. Ever since she had first spoken to him when he was but a young child, he had sworn he would create the world that she described. It became what he desired too. A joyful, peaceful world. But...was that truly what she wanted?

He did not understand. Was it bad to...love? What was love, anyhow? Was it power, the way she had always described? Was it condemnation, which she so often showered upon him? Was it the way she'd looked at him when they'd first set eyes upon one another just a mere two weeks ago, her lips twisted up into that strange-looking smile that almost reminded him of Dr. Odine's sneer? Was it the way he'd spared all of the people of Esthar? Did he have love for them?

What was hatred? Was it the way his Mistress spoke? Was it the way he'd been beaten, bruised, and broken in that cold, _dark _laboratory, lost and so very, _very _alone? Was it the way the long strap with the sharp, metal spikes had crisscrossed over and over upon his back, lacerations deepening as his blood fell like tears upon the ground?

He did not hate the people she told him to kill, did he? What did he...love? What did he...hate?

Did he truly know what those things were?

There were so_ many _things that he did not know the answers to. And, no matter how fiercely he wished it, no one would stop to explain. He felt like he didn't belong. That this world had no room for him. Every fiber of his soul told him that this, what they were doing, was wrong, but was _he_ wrong? Was it bad that he couldn't hurt the way his mistress described?

_I tried, but I._.._Mistress, I...I do not understand. You always told me to follow the feelings buried deep inside of me. My heart is not telling me to kill them. My heart is not telling me to hate, no matter how I attempt to immerse myself in such things. I am sorry, but I cannot do as you ask. Killing makes me hurt. Isn't it bad to hurt people?_

_ Come now, Destin. You are doubting me? Don't you want to have a place to belong?_

_ I...but, Lady Adel...  
_

_ Silence! I told you never to speak that name. That is the name of my failure self. Is that what you want? For me to fail?_

Destin had nothing to say to her words. What was it he wished for? What was it that he wanted?

_I am Queen. I am absolute!_ _You will sit there, and you will wait. Wait for them to walk right into the trap that we have set, is that clear? I need you to do this for me, Destin. Can't you help me? I need more time._

What was he to do? Where else was he to go? No one wanted him. No one. She was the only person who had ever needed him for anything, besides Dr. Odine and the other scientists. Without her, he had no purpose.

_Yes...my lady._

_ Do not disappoint me._

Her voice faded and then she was gone, leaving Destin alone in a room with a man he had killed, clutching the cold-steel hilt of his sword. A droplet of water slid down his cheek, and he raised his hand to swipe at it, puzzled. Was it raining? No, of course not. He was indoors. Why...why did his heart hurt him so? Why did this...hurt? With a gasp, he dropped his blade, and it fell with a clatter to the ground.

Loneliness. Hopelessness. He believed those were the terms for the feelings that swamped him. Was he lost? Was he afraid?

No one else had eyes that were a glowing, emerald green. No one else could do the things he could do. No one else had flowing silver hair, or smooth, alabaster skin nearly as white as snow. Many times, he'd been called a freak. What did that mean? Did it mean he was different? Was it wrong to be different?

Destin clutched both hands to his chest as he struggled to catch his breath, wishing more than anything that he could understand why there were tears leaking endlessly from his eyes.

_Am I...all alone?_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sadface :(

It's always amazing to see your characters take on life, isn't it? When I began this story, even I didn't know that Destin would have the power to pierce my heart so deeply. Then again, if he hadn't, he wouldn't have been a very effective OC, now would he? Thoughts? Questions? Well I'm sure there are plenty of those, but you'll have to wait for answers like everyone else. If anything, this chapter might have given you more questions than answers. If so, I have done my job properly ;)

By the way, I have made some minor modifications to the last scene of chapter two. That way, Destin's personality fits more with the character he has shaped up to be.

Reviews are greatly appreciated ^_^. Thanks for sticking with me!


	8. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: **_;_;

I'm sorry. It's not my fault I always get tons of one-shot ideas on top of this story and all of my other ones. It's not! I swear!

Okay, yeah it is. I'll shut up now so you can read the chapter. Just remember; I love you. Each and every last person :D

**Chapter 7**

Laguna was scared, and it wasn't for himself either.

Never mind the fact that in his prime, he'd faced behemoths and ruby dragons as if they were nothing. Never mind the fact that he'd gone head to head with Sorceress Adel all those years ago, and still lived to tell the tale with a smile on his face. Never mind the fact that he had united an entire country through his words and sheer effort, and kept them that way for _eig__hteen years. _Nope. Never mind. Didn't matter. Apparently, all of his terrifying experiences didn't even come close to the horrors of watching his long-lost son's slow decent into the ranks of the mentally insane.

He sighed inwardly. Hyne, at first he'd compared his recent personal life to a soap opera, but forget that. This madness was starting to sound more and more like a crappy television movie.

Through everything he'd seen and heard...the people he'd killed, the friends he had gained and lost...Laguna had survived. All of it. Whatever life had thrown his way. Wasn't easy, but he'd managed. He had learned long ago that fear was a deadly emotion if you didn't have a proper handle on it. Therefore, he had always sought to control himself to some extent, at least enough to the point that he could prevent the inevitable freak outs, and continue to be there for his friends. 'Don't worry guys, everything is fine. Laguna Loire is here to save the day.' Hyperactive, a little bit on the weird side, but with an optimistic, uplifting attitude. The joker who knew everything and nothing all at once.

That being said, he was usually pretty good at finding positives in any situation, but this…Nothing compared to this feeling at and no one…not even Raine or was no controlling it, no tampering it down. There was no cutting it off, or stopping the fear from choking him. There was no focusing on the things around him, and there was no regulating his thoughts, as he had once claimed helped to take the pain away. There was no opportunity for him to make a futile attempt at lightening the mood. There was no chance for him to stop, put his hand on his companion's shoulder, and tell him to relax; that everything was gonna be all right. For them, it was far too late for that.

There were many things that Laguna didn't know, but right now he did know this. Something was wrong with Squall. Not just wrong..._very, very _wrong. Wow, what a captain obvious statement to make if he did say so himself, but that was beside the point. What he meant was...how could he put it? The way Squall was reacting to everything just wasn't…_Squall. _Plain and simple.

The young man was becoming increasingly short-tempered, and rather than the eloquent, slightly frigid monotone he was prone to using in the best of times, his orders towards Laguna now sounded snappish and cruel. His eyes seemed to flare up and burn Laguna to a crisp every time he had made eye contact for the past two hours. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist (often around his gunblade), and to top it all off, where they were headed right now was seeming more like an awful idea for every step they got closer to it. Not to mention, what made such a bad situation progressively worse was the fact that Squall wouldn't even tell him what he had in mind for their ragtag little duo. Just that they had to get to the command center. _Now._

Squall had always been extremely cautious. Now his behavior suggested the exact opposite, and he seemed to be acting more on impulse than anything else.

Squall Leonhart. Acting on _impulse. _Completely incapable of controlling his own emotions. _Need I __say more?_

In short, that spelled out certain disaster. The kid was moving too fast, sticking too close to the main roads, and not watching very avidly for assassins. Every time the older man asked him to stop so they could discuss their official strategy, he either told him to shut up, or said nothing at all. He was rushing, and Laguna was shocked at this drastic change of character. Had the boy finally snapped? If his son were in a proper state of mind, Laguna was positive that he would agree with him entirely, they would stop to assess their options once more, and the SeeD would realize that they were going about this the wrong way. No, if he were in a proper state of mind he wouldn't need Laguna to tell him that at all.

They needed to be careful, and heading to the command center was _not _the best option for self-preservation. Although it had initially seemed like a good starting point, it now struck him as the worst place in the world they could possibly be. And, just his luck, it turned out they were mere minutes away from their destination. Marvelous.

"Squall." Laguna walked close to him near the side of a building in an alleyway, their path illuminated by a fireball the young commander held aloft in his palm. For a moment or two he said nothing at all, and there was such a lack of response, Laguna wondered if he had heard him call his name.

The flames within appeared to be smothered for the time being, and rather than burning chaos, Laguna sensed instead, an unsettling, icy chill within his companion. The blue of his eyes was dim and dull, making them appear as if they could have belonged to a day-old corpse. So muted in color, they were almost completely gray rather than Raine's blue-gray. Chestnut locks of hair froze at a stand-still around his ears; not a single strand moving or out of place, and his body seemed to shimmer with shards of ice, as if he had donned Shiva's frigid diamond cloak while Laguna had his back turned.

Perhaps he would have, if such a thing were possible. She seemed forever junctioned to him, after all.

Apparently, Squall had heard Laguna loud and clear, because those corpse-like eyes turned straight towards him, and in that moment, the breath left his lungs and he couldn't breathe. It was as if there was a weight pressing into him. Suddenly, Odin had found a comfortable place to sit on top of his chest.

"What?"

Even his tone reminded Laguna of a winter snowstorm, and he shivered in response. He could feel the chill, all right. Where were his scarf and earmuffs when he needed them?

He shook his head. Enough of the jokes already. He was starting to annoy _himself _with them. Down to business now, Laguna. State the cold hard facts, just the way Squall liked them. This time, he feared his young son wouldn't much care for them, but that was his tough shit, wasn't it?

"Listen, we really need to find somewhere to stop and take a rest, so we can talk and re-cooperate. If we go into this as anything less than prepared-"

"Is that all? You're still going on about that?" Squall scoffed, cutting him off before he could even finish his sentence. "I already told you, I have a plan. There's no need to stop when we can end this within another day at most. There is no chance of failure."

"How can you be sure of that? If this plan of yours is so stellar, tell me what it is you have in mind so we can work together. Don't forget that this is _my _country, and these are _my _people. Why are you being so secretive? We're in this together, Squall. If we can't trust each other, who can we trust?"

Squall glared at him, and to be honest, yes, Laguna found it terrifying, but he stood his ground. Crossed his arms, gazed straight back, and waited for the answer he sought.

Finally, the young man gave in and complied. As expected, what Laguna heard wasn't even remotely close to the response he'd been hoping for. There was no, 'You're right, we need to be smart about this.' There was no, 'Fine, if you insist. Moron.' Not even a head shake and a muttered, 'Whatever.' What he _did _say didn't sound like Squall at all. Not the Squall he knew. This was worse than his worst possible expectations, and that was pretty bad by Laguna's current standards.

"Adel and whoever is working with her are most likely waiting for us at the command center, the most obvious place imaginable. You think I don't know that? Guess what, Laguna? It's what I'm betting on. The more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me. All I need to do is destroy the enemy. All _you _need to do is shut up and let me work."

What...the hell. A sharp pain shot up his thigh, but Laguna ignored it, rubbing it until he could bear the sting without too much discomfort.

It was true that they needed to resolve this as soon as possible, but walking into a trap deliberately with their current strength and numbers wasn't the way to do that. The smart thing would be to find a way to contact Garden, or at least stop at a few items shops on their way to their destination. Stock full of healing potions; maybe check to be sure they had all of the right spells with , they were making all of the wrong moves and playing the game by Adel's rules. That spelled out disaster in every meaning of the word. Laguna wouldn't have it. He wouldn't. It was time for him to put his foot down, and smack some sense into one very young SeeD Commander.

Laguna lunged forward, stopping just short of running straight into Squall, and yet the SeeD didn't move a muscle. He just stared placidly back, seemingly unaffected. If that was how he wanted to play it, fine. He could do that. It took two to tango, and Laguna was quite a good dancer when he put his mind to it.

"Are you hearing yourself? Do you have any idea what you just said? Honestly, Squall? Kill, kill, that's all you're thinking about, isn't it? Is that what you are? A mindless drone? A heartless fiend, just like Adel is? 'Ignore or kill everyone I don't know how to deal with,' is that it? I understand you want to avenge _her_, but you know she wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want you to murder someone in retaliation for what happened to her, no matter who they were. You know that as well as I do, perhaps better than me. She wouldn't want you to turn your back on everyone who cares about you and ignore any and all sense of reason. Not if it meant ripping yourself apart piece by piece in the process."

Laguna reached out to grasp Squall's shoulders, but the youth shook his hands off and began to trek forward once again, the older man quickly following next to him. Without hesitation, he sprinted past him and stood directly within his path, barring the way. For several long, tense moments, the two men were silent, gazes locked, wearing identical glares and scowls, he was sure. The fire was back now, and it was burning in Squall's eyes. If Laguna hadn't known better, he would have thought they belonged to demons from the nightmares of a child.

The SeeD's voice when he spoke could have sent Lucifer running with his tail between his legs. Considering he had one, anyhow.

"Move."

Laguna didn't care. He was bringing this boy to his senses if it killed him. Although at this rate, that just might be what it took, if that would be enough at all. "No."

"Move or I'll _make _you move. I don't have to bring you along with me. I could just bash you over the head, stash you somewhere safe, and retrieve you when I'm done. Last chance, Laguna. Let. Me. _Through._"

"I told you, no. We are going to talk about this; I don't care what you threaten to do to me."

"We're not talking about anything," Squall spat, and he spun on his heal, squared his shoulders, and prepared to walk off, back the way they had come. Was this the part where he was supposed to bash Laguna over the head with that pretty little gunblade hilt? Then, in a few hours, he would come back to 'retrieve' him? Unlikely. Such a cold use of words, too. Not that that was very surprising under the circumstances.

Laguna growled. Damn it all, Squall was the most stubborn person he had ever met! Well, that was it then. With the way things looked now, the president no longer had a choice. And, as harsh as such a method was, he would press on if it meant saving him in the long run, even if what he was about to do went against his own moral code. Laguna Loire was many things, but he was _not _a malicious person. Regardless, he was just going to have to suck it up and pretend his heart wasn't breaking into one thousand pieces. Sure, no problem.

Although, he was sure he was close to cringing as he formed the words.

"Fine, Squall. Run. Run away! Run from the world, from your friends, from yourself, from everything. That's going to do your girl _a lot _of good, isn't it? I hate to break it to you kid, but the world doesn't stop spinning because you lose someone. You're letting Rinoa's death completely change who you are, and she would _hate _that. What would she think of you now? Seeing you act like this would break her heart."

For a moment, there was nothing but dead silence. Another, and another, and another. At this point, Laguna was sweating bullets in anticipation of the young man's reaction. As it turned out, he didn't have too much longer to wait.

In an explosion of anger, Squall spun around, all but charging him as if he were a bull and Laguna was holding the red cape. He looked like a madman. A raving lunatic. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was being chased by a serial killer. That, more than anything else, was what threatened to bring Laguna to his knees in despair. It didn't, of course. He took it like a man. Didn't stumble backward, didn't collapse underneath the weight of his severely cramped-up leg. He just stood there, silently. Awaiting the chaos that he had unleashed and wondering about the consequences of what he had just done.

"What then, huh? What do I do? You tell me Laguna, if you know so much. How am I supposed to feel? Should I be crying like a fucking infant? Should I be laughing? Should I just shrug my shoulders and say, 'Oh well, whatever'? She's dead! She's dead, and you know what, you're right. I _don't _know how to deal with it, but I have to do something. Don't you understand? This can't go unpunished! I am a SeeD; it's our job to eliminate sorceresses anyway. Why shouldn't I take out such a psycho bitch, one who would undoubtedly be a threat to the entire world? You tell me, _Mr. President_, because I don't get it!"

He was breathing heavily by the time he was done, and much to Laguna's shock, there were tears streaming down his cheeks. His face was red with rage, his eyes were mad with grief, and his gunblade was drawn at his side. Although, judging from his demeanor, Laguna wouldn't have been surprised if Squall didn't even realize _that_ fact. He wasn't sure when that had happened himself.

"I understand, Squall. Believe me, I do. Raine died, and I didn't even get to say goodbye to her. She died without me by her side. She died screaming my name! How do you think I felt when I heard that? I hated the world, I hated myself. I hated _everything. _Me, the cheerful to a fault, silly Galbadian soldier! Imagine that." Now, he could feel tears of his own welling up, but he held them back as best he could. He wasn't done yet. Perhaps he needed this as much as Squall did.

"I could have found the doctors who weren't skilled enough to save her. I could have ruined their lives, did you know that? At one point, I had their data and personal information in a folder I held in my hand, upon _my _order. All it would have taken was a single phone call, and their names would have been forever dragged through the mud. But do you know what I did with that folder, Squall? I threw it away. Because nothing, nothing I could have done to them would have made me feel better. I wasn't angry at them. I was angry at myself."

Laguna paused, but Squall said nothing. Wide-eyed and motionless, he seemed to be frozen with shock, unable to move or speak.

His silence gave Laguna all of the strength he needed to carry on.

"Our situations are still different, but fundamentally, they are the same. Raine wasn't murdered, but in the end, she was just as dead. And you're as angry at yourself as I was way back then. The point is, Squall, Adel needs to be dealt with and we both know that, but you're doing it for the wrong reasons. You want to stop her for your own self-satisfaction, not because she is a threat to the world as we know it. That's what I take issue with. That's why I can't let you go. Not now. I won't let you make the same mistakes that I did, especially since the consequences would be _far _worse for you in this situation."

An incredulous, tearful chuckle fell from Squall's lips as he slowly shook his head, hiding his face in his hand for moment before threading his fingers through his hair. "How does this always...I- Hyne _damn _it, what is it with you? I don't understand. I'm nothing but a hired mercenary. Why do you care so much?"

Laguna started to open his mouth...then quickly closed it again. There were so _many_ reasons. How much of the truth was he willing to reveal? What could he say to the boy, honestly?_ I care because that's just who I am? I care__ because you saved the world? I care because you're a good kid, and I don't __want to see you suffer? I care because you're my flesh and blood, and I'll never let you fall as long as I'm alive?_

Perhaps he would omit that last one for now. You know...this wasn't exactly the perfect time for it. He couldn't just hold out his arms and say, 'Because I love you. Now come on, and give your dear old dad a hug!'

_This has gone on long enough. Come here to me, please. I mean, if you would, of course. I'd hate to force you._

Yeah, or that. Come here to me, please. Sounded a little bit too, 'aristocratic horror movie villain,' for his taste, but he supposed...wait, what the hell?_!_

_Greetings. Um...you can hear me, can you not?_

Was that a separate voice in his head?

_The president, and the knight as well, yes?_

W_hy_ did it sound so stiff and unsure of itself?

_I mean no insult, but I couldn't help overhearing you both arguing. If you'll just come forward, we can settle this affair as soon as possible. It will be a lot easier on all of us if you cooperate. _

No, scratch that. Why the hell did it sound so…so _courteous_?

Laguna raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Squall, who looked as if he were caught somewhere between puzzlement and disbelief. Although, there were whispers of something darker there; something Laguna was afraid to look too closely upon.

So he could hear it too. Well, either they were _both _completely insane (which wasn't _that_ unlikely), or there was someone talking to them. Inside of their heads. Using a decidedly-sorceress like power, but that was just the thing. It sure as hell wasn't Adel. In fact, whoever it was seemed to be male judging from their tone, and contrary to popular belief, Adel was in fact female. What was going on here? Who were they dealing with?

_I'm at the command center. You know that already, don't you? I could retrieve you myself, but I do not believe you'd enjoy that very much. To be honest, I was supposed to wait for you both to come on your own, so you would be unaware of my presence upon your arrival, but I have no wish for unnecessary deception._

Their enemy was being honest...and he didn't like deception. Laguna could feel his mouth drop open, even as the words flooded into his mind. Okay, that was a new one. This was just bizarre. There was no other way to put it. He half expected Kiros to jump out from a nearby alley and scream, 'April Fools!' Except for the fact that, you know…it wasn't April.

He turned his head, and was about to speak with Squall to get his opinion, but any and all thoughts fled his mind when he saw the young SeeD's lips form into a smirk, eyes glinting with malice despite the tears that still stood within them. A short, choppy laugh followed just after; it was more chilling to Laguna than that of Adel herself, and despite everything, it took him by surprise.

"I see. So you're the one, are you? Fine, wait for me if you are so confident. Don't presume you can detain me so easily." Before Laguna could stop him, he darted forward, movements so quick, he was hardly anything but a blur. Cursing, the president followed behind him, just barely managing to keep up as they approached the entrance to the command center a mere few yards away.

If he had anything left to pull out of the rabbit hat, Laguna knew that now was the time to do it. But unfortunately, he was fresh out of ideas, and time was a thing of the past. What was he supposed to do now but go after the boy?

Somehow, Laguna knew things would be even worse if he didn't, but he also couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to make one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He only hoped he could get to the bottom of this before it was too late. He also hoped beyond hope that when they arrived there, Adel wouldn't be waiting along with the mysterious voice in their heads.

That…would never be a sentence he should utter out loud; for far too many reasons.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I was going to wait another day to post this. Even though it's done, I do like to edit the shit out of them before I post them. But, I've already done that to this chapter. I've made you wait long enough, so I hope you enjoyed that.

So, thanks for reading, as always ^_^. Reviews of all sorts are appreciated. Starving young artist here :)


	9. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: **_Oh, you guys. I don't know what to say, because I'm sorry simply isn't enough anymore. It has been so long, and I'm not trying to make excuses for myself. I do however, feel that I owe you all an explanation.

I'll be honest. I lost all inspiration for this story and this fandom. It started to feel so suffocating and stale, I just knew I had to take a hiatus. I want to be writing this story because I love it, not because I feel obligated to finish it. I think that now, I'm ready to do that. Or give it a try, at least. And since Assassin's Creed III comes out in a month, I want to bang out at least a couple of chapters before it consumes my soul. This one's kind of a short little teaser, but I decided to end it where I did for a reason.

Thank you so much to anyone who has stuck with this, and to all new readers: hi :D. Stick around for the ride and I promise, I won't disappoint you.

**Chapter 8**

So this was President Loire. Hmm. His face tugged at a vague memory, though Destin knew not why.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late forties. His hair was dark, and fell far past his shoulders. As Destin had already noted, his eyes were deep green, and he had some sort of machine gun drawn at his side. He stood perhaps an inch or so taller than his younger companion, who stood beside him just inside of the doorway.

The younger man – Angel Wings' knight, he assumed - merely stood rigid, frozen with rage. That he could understand perfectly well, but this older man. This…Laguna. His actions were a mystery. His head was cocked slightly to the side, as if he were trying to find the answer to a riddle. But…that didn't make any sense.

Why didn't he cower? Why didn't he cringe? Why didn't he take one look at Destin's markings or his eyes, and run screaming in another direction?

Maybe President Loire just hadn't been told what monsters looked like. Poor man. Perhaps he should warn him.

"We've met before. I've seen you, I know I have," the president declared, a strange sort of desperation present in his voice. The statement only elevated Destin's curiosity. He had no recollection of meeting President Loire, although perhaps there was some truth to it. He was hardly a person who could be mistaken for someone else.

That vague memory tugged at his mind again. Perhaps he would think on it more, when he had the time.

Suddenly, the knight seemed to grow tired of waiting. He stalked forward, blue-grey eyes burning into Destin's luminescent green.

"Where is Adel?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Not yet." To do so would be blatantly moving against a direct order, and he wasn't ready for that. If he disobeyed her so soon after his most recent transgression, the results could be catastrophic. Actually, now that he thought of it, he was already disobeying her again just by standing here talking to them.

More and more, Destin found he did not like the actions she took, and that scared him. Was _he_ wrong, or was she? Was he naught but a slave, blinded by false devotion? It wasn't that he couldn't break away from her if he wanted to, but he loved her, and she loved him. Didn't she?

Lady Adel's words were often harsh, and she demanded many things, but she also gave him purpose. Everyone else had done nothing but hurt him throughout his life, and yet she made him feel like he was more than just a lab experiment. More than someone so grotesque, even their own parents wanted them dead. She took that all away. She wanted him. She_needed _him.

She loved him. Or did she?

Just thinking such things almost made him break down into sobs right there in front of them. Try as he might, he couldn't keep it buried at the back of his mind.

"…did you hear a word I just said? Answer me! You admit you're an agent of Adel, do you not? Where is she? You can't just lead us here, then leave it at, 'I'm afraid I can't tell you that.' Who are you? What do you want?" The knight was angrier now and still talking. Maybe he had been this entire time, but Destin could hardly hear him. Even now, the words brushed past his ear as if they'd never been spoken.

Who was he, the knight asked? What did he want?

He couldn't respond to questions with no answer.

She loved him.

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.

If she didn't, that would mean there was no one who ever had.

Oh no. Oh no, it was happening again. Not now. Not now. _Not now. _Lady Adel said that emotion had no place here. She said that he could only be her knight if he was strong, and strong knights never shed tears the way he used to. If he showed hurt, she wouldn't love him, and she _had _to love had to love him. She had to love him.

She _had _to _love him._

He had to stop. He had to stop. He had to stop it _now._

Dr. Odine's pleading eyes were all he could see as the visions burst forth before he could hold them back, and he hugged himself as he backed away from Squall and Laguna, nearly forgetting their presence altogether.

It was coming now. He couldn't stop it. He was melting, and he felt he'd never stop.

* * *

The change was almost instantaneous.

Laguna stood motionless, bewildered, mouth slightly ajar as he struggled to believe what he was seeing. What the ever loving _shit _was going on? Even Squall was startled enough to cease his rant for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

Their so-called evil adversary was backed into a corner, arms held tightly around his middle as he mumbled to himself.

"Uh…" Laguna began, arms hanging helplessly at his sides. "Well. This is awkward."

"I don't get it." Squall lowered his gunblade, glaring into the corner Destin occupied with something akin to confusion, rage simmering for the moment, though just below the surface. "What the hell is he playing at? Is he just _insane?"_

Laguna shared the young SeeD's confusion. His hostility? Not so much. Realistically, he should have been the one in a furious rage, trying to figure out what was happening to his city and his people, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that despite where all fingers were pointing, this young man was more than a faceless enemy they had to knock down. He swore inwardly, once again unable to remember why his face was so familiar. Damn it. Idiot. How do you just _forget _someone with glowing green eyes and scars all over their face?

"Call me crazy, Squall, but I don't think he means us any harm. If he's powerful enough to speak telepathically, he must have some sort of natural affinity for magic. I can almost feel it enveloping him and he hasn't made a move to attack us. Besides, he said he couldn't tell you where Adel was _yet. _Doesn't that imply he wants to eventuall_y_?"

"_Eventually _may be good enough for you, Laguna, but it's certainly not good enough for me. I don't know who this guy thinks he is, but he's not getting a free pass for crying in a corner. You may be a soft-hearted fool, but I'm not. He's going to tell us everything he knows, and he's going to tell us _now. _What kind of warrior panics like that two minutes after his opponents enter the room?_"_

"Yes, because you've never needed a moment to collect yourself, have you Squall? You would _never _break down in a desperate situation like that. What could he be thinking?"

Squall's eyes hardened, but Laguna knew his words had hit a nerve. He had half expected anger, but instead, the young SeeD looked almost ashamed of himself. He glanced at their unnamed adversary, but only for a moment before he looked away. "That was low and you know it."

"Nevertheless, it's the truth." Gathering up his courage he reached out and placed his hand on Squall's shoulder. To his delight, the young man didn't push it away. "He wants to talk, Squall. I don't know why, but shouldn't we at least listen?"

"What if he had something to do with Rin's death? What then, Laguna?" His son gazed into his face, more vulnerable than he'd ever seen him. He'd said her name. A _pet _name, no less. That must have been unspeakably hard for him. His face crumpled with despair and he turned away, shaking Laguna's hand off his shoulder as he hastened to put distance between them.

Laguna's heart soared, even as it throbbed with sympathy. Now this…this was progress. Sort of.

Squall's grip tightened on his gunblade, and he looked down at his feet to avoid his eyes. The boy wasn't crying; he wouldn't allow himself that, but he was struggling to keep himself from breaking apart at the seams. Laguna stayed close, but didn't try to touch him again. Once, it had been allowed, but once was the limit. He had to be careful about how he handled this.

"I'm not saying he didn't, but if she were here, you know she would want you to resolve this as peacefully as you could. She was ever a diplomat, that girl. At least find out if he's guilty before you condemn him. Then, if it turns out he is…well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Squall hesitated, but nodded in acknowledgement. Still, he wouldn't look at Laguna. "Fine, but if this method fails, I get to chop his head off."

He sounded so sulky when he said it, Laguna couldn't help but smile. "Deal."

While they'd been locked in their own discussion, their mystery host seemed to have pulled himself out of the corner he'd retreated into. He stood awkwardly just on the periphery of his vision, face sheepish.

"I...am sorry. I do not understand what came over me."

Laguna took a step forward, but Squall stopped him with a wave of his hand, glancing backward at him with a warning in his gaze. He was obviously still worried about the threat of assassination, and with good reason. The young SeeD stepped forward, his walk steady and sure, and when he spoke, it was in a voice much more level than Laguna had heard him use in a long time.

"Listen. I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. I don't know if you were trying to make us drop our guard with that little display, or if you're really just a nut job. But I want you to listen to me, and I want you to listen good. You obviously called us here for a reason, and at this point, you're all I have that could lead me to the truth. You want to talk? Fine. But I want _answers."_

The young man's face could only be described as bewildered. He seemed at a loss on how to explain his distress. He probably didn't understand it himself, because he said nothing on the subject, his tone gaining strength as he spoke once more. "Of course. My name is Destin. I am Lady Adel's right hand and I have orders to capture both you and President Loire. I am to threaten _you _if he does not comply with her wishes."

Laguna felt his heart drop down to his feet, even as he berated himself for his paranoia.

_Get a grip, man. You're jumping to conclusions. _She couldn't possibly know _that_.

Could she?

The President of Esthar stood back and watched as the young SeeD's expression crumpled with confusion, and he locked eyes with Laguna, questioning. For the first time since this mess had begun, he allowed himself to look at his son; _really _look, as he hadn't since that day in his office. Hyne, it felt _so damn long _ago.

Raine's beautiful eyes. Raine's alabaster skin. Raine's regal way of holding herself, and her attitude that screamed, "No nonsense!" It was still unreal. It was still almost more than he could take. He still wanted to laugh, he still wanted to cry. He still wanted to stay with him forever, and yet he wanted to run from that face. The face of a woman he'd loved more than life. A woman he had failed.

This time though, she wasn't the _only_ thing he saw. This time, he could see himself reflected in Squall's eyes, and it scared the holy living shit out of him.

Who was he kidding? Of course Adel knew.

She'd always known everything.


	10. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note: **_Hey guys! No, you're not seeing things. This is actually an update. I've been trying to finish this chapter for a very long time, but it seems that whenever I tried I ended up hating and deleting everything I wrote and just rage quitting. I have no excuse. This is disgraceful. For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!

That being said, I'm reasonably satisfied with how it turned out. I still think it's a little rough around the edges, but as writers we're our own worst critics, aren't we? Your opinions are always welcome of course. You're my readers and you do have a voice, after all.

Without further delay, enjoy the chapter! Thanks so much for sticking with me!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Squall continued to stare back at Laguna, eyes narrowed in confusion. This guy, this…_Destin. _He was just crazy, right? The President didn't care enough about him to risk his entire country, surely. Why should he?

So then, why was Laguna acting this way? He'd grown completely still, his face was white as a sheet and he was gazing at Squall with sorrow in his eyes that he couldn't even begin to comprehend. He had to be honest. It was more than a little unnerving. Laguna always found some way to keep his cool. To look at any situation in a positive light, but now…he didn't understand. What the hell was he so afraid of?

Clearly however, he wasn't going to be getting answers from the man any time soon. He gave up and turned his eyes back to Destin, who merely stood watching with that same unwavering, vacant expression on his face. Although this time, Squall couldn't help but feel that it looked a little forced. He still didn't know what to make of this guy, whatever his story was, but something wasn't right about him. He wasn't just an ordinary Knight. There was an aura of power emanating from him that Squall had never felt the likes of before.

Not to mention, he was absolutely appalledby the way he was holding his sword. His grip on the weapon was _awful. _He knew he could easily knock it out of his hand with a well-placed blow or two.

He'd think more about the implications of that once he had the answers he needed. Right now he had to stay focused, and that was no easy task. Squall could feel the rage simmering just beneath the surface, but he pushed it back down. There would be time for that later.

"Me? Why me? If she's trying to use people against him, she'd be better off finding Ellone. I helped save Esthar and the rest of the world, but when it comes right down to it all I am is a hired hand. I mean nothing to him."

Destin shook his head, a few silver locks of hair escaping from where it lay tucked under his robes. "I don't know the reason. Just that she said you were our best chance at forcing him to step down."

"Half the city has been incapacitated. Why would she need him to step down? Why doesn't she just take it by force?"

Laguna's voice was so small, Squall almost missed it, even though all else was dead silent.

"She wants me disgraced."

Squall glanced back at him, but only for a moment, keeping his gaze steady on Destin as he held his weapon ready. Nevertheless, that one glance was enough for him to glean everything he needed to know. The older man was staring straight ahead, gazing into nothing, hands shaking as they hung loosely at his sides.

Shaking. Oh, Hyne. They didn't have time for this now. Please don't break apart now. Squall didn't know if he had it in him to handle Laguna's mental breakdown on top of his own.

Oh, the sentences he never thought he'd have occasion to think up. Squall suppressed a sigh.

"Disgraced? Why? What do you mean?"

"She hates me more than anyone or anything. She would want to make me suffer before she kills me. She'd want it slow. Painful. And I'd be the last to die."

Destin nodded in affirmation. "I…was supposed to kill everyone near the presidential and market districts. With the exception of you two, that is. But I just…I don't know. I put them to sleep instead."

"Let me ask you this, Destin. Why are you on her side? You wouldn't be so torn if you thought what she was doing was right. If you're powerful enough to put an entire sector of Esthar into cold sleep, why would you be afraid of what Adel could do to you? She couldn't even _touch _something of this magnitude."

Destin cocked his head, confused. "I love her. Isn't that enough?"

Again, the young SeeD found himself speechless. Try as he might, Squall did not understand how a grown man could be this emotionally confused and that was so ironic, it was almost funny. Was he a stoic robot or an unstable five year old? The way he spoke, the way he carried himself…his every action made him seem as if he were naught but a child, struggling to understand the way the world worked. What, did he crawl out from under a rock or something? Did he appear older than he actually was? Had Adel sheltered him so much, he didn't know how to function in the real world? Was it all a façade to throw them off guard?

There was no way to answer any of the questions he had at this point, so why the fuck couldn't he just shut his mind up already?

"You're nothing but a tool to her! That's all anybody is in Adel's world. Open your eyes! She's using you. I don't even need to see you both in the same room to know that."

"So what if she is? I don't care. It's better than nobody wanting me at all." Destin's voice was so pitiful and forlorn when he said this, Squall had to restrain himself from punching the sense out of him. Oh, for Hyne's sake. He'd had about enough of the wounded puppy persona he was putting on. Act or no, it was just getting on his nerves. He thought his life was all doom and gloom? Well, he could just get the _fuck _in line.

"How could you enable her when she does nothing but murder innocent people? How could you love someone you doubt enough to betray?"

Destin hugged one arm to his chest, face turned to the floor. "I don't know."

"She doesn't love you, you misguided fool! She loves no one!"

"You're wrong. You have to be wrong. If she doesn't love me, I'm nothing. If she doesn't love me…what am I good for?"

A strange sense of kinship welled beneath his breast, though he was quick to squash it. The last thing he needed were sympathy pangs for the enemy. It didn't matter that Squall himself had once thought the exact same words as a child, alone and crying in the rain. Alone, with Rinoa on his back as he trudged to Esthar not so very long ago. Alone, surrounded by her blackened, bloodstained feathers, his screams echoing soundlessly into the night.

Nope. None of that mattered.

None of that mattered at all.

The silence was broken not by Squall or Destin, but by Laguna. He made a move to step past Squall and toward their host.

Squall made a grab for his arm, incredulous. Idiot. What was he thinking?

To his surprise, the older man would not relent. Whatever inner fear had held him in its grip seemed long gone. He shrugged Squall's hand away and took a step or two past him.

The young SeeD leaped to his side, roughly grabbing his shoulder and attempting to pull him backward. "What are you-"

"You really believe that, don't you?" Laguna questioned, eyes dark, yet sad. He ignored Squall and continued to gaze resolutely upon Destin's form and for the first time, Squall allowed himself to take a good long look as well. His eyes were an unearthly green; not quite emerald, but just a shade or two lighter, and they stuck out like sore thumbs in contrast to his pale complexion. Lonely, haunted and perhaps a bit glassy; with tears or madness? He couldn't say, but dark rings stood underneath them as if he barely slept. He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones, but his face was thin and hollow. Jagged white scars descended from the corners of his eyelids down to his chin, carved into his flesh, as if he'd been scratched and the wounds had never healed right.

He had a sword drawn and at his side, though Squall could tell just from the alien way he held it that he was an amateur, if he could wield it at all. Any proper swordsman treated their weapon as an extension of his arm, but Destin looked more like he could have been playing soldier in his father's armor.

There was a buzzing in Squall's ears that indicated the presence of powerful magic. That he'd already taken note of, though he allowed himself to dwell on it now. He couldn't be mistaken. His sorceress may be gone, but he was still a Knight. He knew magic when he felt it and if he hadn't known better, he would have said there was a sorceress with them right this very second, but that couldn't be possible, could it? Everyone currently in this room with him was male, and there had only ever been one sorcerer: the Great Hyne himself.

One thing was for certain. If Destin possessed magic powerful enough to tip off Squall's radar, why the hell did he need a sword that he couldn't even use? It didn't make sense.

Analysis over for the time being, Squall looked back at Laguna, at the pity in his stare, and he couldn't help but wonder if this strange man/child would even want or welcome such a thing. If there was one thing _Squall _hated, it was to be pitied.

Laguna's face tightened with horror. "You poor thing. You were one of her chosen, weren't you? Oh dear Hyne. I thought I got them all. I thought I _saved _them. How did she hide you?"

"Chosen? I suppose so, but I don't understand. Being chosen by someone is a good thing. Why do you pity me for it?"

Squall spiraled further into confusion as the president shut his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands almost as if he were attempting to ward off a headache. "That you would even have to ask such a thing saddens me beyond words."

Destin narrowed his eyes inquisitively, Laguna gazing back with a desperate sort of helplessness, and Squall decided he'd finally had his fill of bullshit for one lifetime. He turned toward the president, preparing to demand an explanation for everything he'd said within the past ten minutes, but he never got that far.

Later he would review this moment a thousand times over, and he would still never understand how she'd escaped his notice.

In the blink of an eye she was where she hadn't been a mere second before, standing next to Destin, a hand caressing his arm. Laguna visibly started but Squall was already moving, grabbing him roughly by the arm and shoving him physically behind him. He didn't think about the hows and the whys. Instead, he moved into a defensive position and held his gunblade at the ready, lip curled with contempt. Outside, he was the very image of the warrior who'd defeated her mere months before.

Inside however, he was reeling.

Her appearance, if possible, was more horrifying than he ever could have imagined. She was death itself, and that wasn't just some cheesy metaphor.

A sack of rotting flesh stood before him_. _A corpse that didn't know how to die.

Her skin was putrid and gray, wet with puss and blood. In some spots it flaked away and in others still, it was absent entirely. He thought he could see a cheek bone peeking through her decaying face. A skeletal finger rubbed at Destin's chin as he watched. Squall was impressed when he managed not to shudder. Much.

Her once glorious red hair hung in clumps around her head, patchy, stringy and tangled over her shoulder. Her eyes were the same eerie black and red, though he could see the stark white rims of her eyes sockets where the flesh had rotted away.

Her robes were filthy and stained with countless substances he dared not name, and she smiled a sickly smile as she beckoned with that same skeletal finger. Hyne, he could smellher from here. What the ever loving fuck was he supposed to make of this? He expected this from B grade zombie movies, not his_ life_.

Zombie Adel. Well wasn't that just great. Zell was going to die laughing when he heard this one.

_Focus, Leonhart. You put her down once, you can do it again._ He squared his jaw as Laguna stepped up beside him, apparently determined to stay there. When Squall shot a scowl in his direction, the older man matched it with one of his own.

He cursed under his breath, but nevertheless allowed it, though he made sure to shift his stance as to shield Laguna from the psychopathic sorceress if need be. If this…_thing _was still a sorceress, anyway.

"Well, since we're all acquainted, I'm sure you won't mind if we skip the introductions, will you my dear little Knight?" Adel began, voice scratchy from disuse and about as pleasant to listen to as nails on chalkboard.

"I'd like nothing more. I do have a few questions for you, _Lady _Adel. How have you been? I'm ever so interested to hear how you managed this…insurrection." Squall's voice was harsh and biting as the sting of a behemoth's blow.

"I'm sure, though I hope you'll forgive me for not indulging. Trust me. We'll have plenty of time to exchange words during your stay here." She stepped a pace forward and Destin automatically moved to shadow her right hand, eyes shining with tears. Abruptly, Adel's face twisted with rage. She turned and backhanded him across the mouth, so forcefully, his head snapped to the side with a crack.

"What did I say about defying me? Are you trying to make me cast you aside?"

"No, my Lady."

"I'll deal with you at a later time. Right now I have guests to see to, you understand. Guests I expressly told you to incapacitate, I might add."

Destin said nothing, merely held his cheek and stared at the floor.

"I do apologize for that interruption. You know how unreliable subordinates can be. He's immensely powerful, but he's in that rebellious stage I'm afraid. I miss my dear Ellone. She was easier to control. Scared so easily. As children are wont to, I suppose."

Laguna cut in, voice shaking with rage. "She was never yours, nor will she be!"

"She was mine. _Mine_ and you took her from me! But worry not. This score can still be settled, I expect. I've a splendid idea, if you'd care to hear it." Adel's wasted lips stretched into a mocking smirk. "A life for a life. A daughter for a son. That sounds fair, wouldn't you agree?"

And just what the hell was that supposed to mean? Son? What son? As far as he knew Laguna had no children.

Squall had a nagging suspicion lurking at back of his mind but he pushed it down, dismissing it in an instant. No. Not possible.

"Laguna, what is she talking about?" He'd never liked being kept in the dark and he detested it even more under these circumstances.

Adel laughed as she met Squall's gaze. "Poor little Knight. No wonder you couldn't save her. You can't even save _yourself_. "

"Says the walking corpse. I took you down once, Adel. I can do it again. You think you're this big bad enigma, don't you? Hmph. You're not. I understand you perfectly well." Squall could hear his voice quiver just a bit despite himself. One more sentence like that and he was going to rip her apart, with or without the answers he sought.

Adel didn't seem to notice Squall's slipping control and if she did, she chose not to comment. To the contrary, his words even seem to have struck a nerve. "You understand nothing! But you don't need to. Your usefulness will be at an end as soon as our good President gives me what I want."

Laguna, to Squall's surprise, snarled (what the fuck, he could _snarl?), _voice frigid as a Trabian snow storm. "Threaten him again. I dare you."

"You're in no position to be speaking to me that way, Laguna Loire. You should know that."

That was it. He was done talking. Squall was at his limit. "Enough of this nonsense! I want answers, and I want them now. How are you still in the world of the living? What the hell do you want from us? Why did you go after Rinoa? Did it bother you that much that someone other than you held the same power you did? Don't even try to deny it. Whether it was you or your lackey right there makes no difference to me. She's dead, and I know you're the reason. I know you went after her."

Again, Adel cackled, although she all but ignored him. Instead she continued to lock eyes with Laguna, addressing him as if Squall had never spoken at all. "Oh, I get it. He doesn't know anything, does he?" She didn't wait for a response, instead shifting her attention back to Squall. "The little sorceress was never my target, you stupid boy. She was an added bonus. A means to an end."

"A means to _what _end? Spit it out, you crazy bitch!"

"Why, Sir Knight. You surprise me. I was under the impression you were supposed to be intelligent for your age. The end of Laguna Loire, of course. It's such a shame you haven't caught on. You are center stage, after all."

The suspicion was back and it was at the forefront of his mind, and no matter how hard he tried to banish it, there was no pushing it down this time.

'_Let's talk after this is all done. I have a lot to tell you….'_

'_I am to threaten you if he does not comply with her wishes…'_

'_I can't wait to see you, Squall. There's something else I have to talk to you about when you get here…'_

Adel lifted a hand directly at Squall and he stiffened, raising his gunblade and muttering _'shell' _in defense. She wasn't actually conjuring. It seemed more a symbolic gesture than anything else. Nevertheless, Laguna threw himself between them, raising his rifle to his shoulder.

"I'll be damned if I let you harm a hair on his head."

His mouth fell open. And he _got_ it.

Squall stumbled a half-step forward as Laguna met his eyes. All he could see swimming in their emerald depths, was guilt. Worry, guilt and sorrow increased tenfold. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a muted gasp.

Still Laguna said nothing, merely stood with that same horrible expression on his face.

_It's not true. Tell me it's not true._

He could feel his hands trembling where he gripped his gunblade. He wanted to run from that gaze. Run from those guilt-haunted eyes. Run from this room, from Adel, from _everything _if it meant he'd never have to face up to this.

He couldn't, of course. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. All he _could _do was stare at Laguna, too shocked to utter a single word, more shaken than he could ever remember feeling. Squall knew his own expression just oozed betrayal, but damn it, he couldn't help himself.

Damn it. _Damn _it.

Just when he'd begun to think he could trust him.

Laguna shut his eyes and turned away in shame. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you. I'm sorry."

Adel peeled back her lips and grinned.

Squall felt the threads snap.

Bared his teeth.

And lunged.


	11. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note: **_Greetings my darlings! Welcome to the next, long awaited installment of _Vengeance. _I hope it is well worth the wait. I'm absolutely terrible. Honestly, I don't know how I have fans, because you guys are the best. Really. I love you.

**Chapter 10**

Laguna Loire moved to fall in at Squall's side the instant he sprang into battle mode, heart threatening to burst from his chest. To say things had gone from bad to worse was an understatement. It was more like they had gone from 'oh shit' to 'holy fuck, what just happened?'

He clenched his jaw. Much as he tried to make light of things in his head, there was nothing funny about their current situation. Nothing at all. Who did he think he was kidding? He'd just lost any shot he'd ever had of being something to that boy. Squall's life so far had been filled with nothing but people who lied to him and now, he was in the same category.

The betrayal in those beautiful blue eyes would stay with him 'til his dying day. A nightmare Laguna deserved to dwell in for eternity.

He would never forgive himself. Squall must hate his guts.

Almost as if to answer his thoughts, the young commander stiffened and threw a glance back over his shoulder. He only glimpsed his face for a second, but the disgust twisting his features made Laguna flinch.

"Get in my way Loire, and I can't promise you won't get burned. Stay out of it." His stance was rigid, but his voice trembled with quiet rage. Something had snapped in Squall, leaving something primal in its wake.

Maybe he was losing his mind, but Laguna was a little glad Squall had a target to blow all of his anger toward. Maybe in the long run it was what he needed to get his head on straight.

If they got out of this alive anyhow. Their prospects weren't looking very good.

Adel chuckled quietly to herself; director of the show, as Destin stepped forward, grim-faced. She seemed content just to stand by and enjoy the festivities. He doubted she'd jump in unless she absolutely had to, but he'd keep his eye on her. Just to be safe. Squall could hate him all he wanted, but that didn't mean he was going to stop protecting him.

He couldn't just stand here while this was happening. The boy was reeling from this new revelation. If he made a mistake he could be killed.

"I'm not junctioned, but I'm armed. I can-"

"Do you want to die? You haven't been in real time combat in over seventeen years. What do you think you can do? So help me, Loire. Back off. Or Adel isn't going to be the one you need to fear."

"She wants to _kill you!"_

Squall circled away from him toward Destin, gunblade angled in front of him expertly. "She can get in line. Don't insult me. I don't need your help."

Adel laughed again in the distance, standing up against the wall a few feet behind Destin. "Come, Laguna. Let the boys have their fun. Would you like a drink? Wine, perhaps?"

"Fuck you."

The tyrant shrugged, seating herself at a small folding table. It was so surreal, Laguna almost laughed. Instead he shuddered. Oh eww, that was a maggot poking out of her shoulder, wasn't it? Ugh. Gross.

What could he do? He was stuck. If he said one more word in protest, he wasn't positive Squall wouldn't physically turn on him, and much as he hated to admit it, his son was right. Laguna was hardly combat ready these days. He'd probably just get in the way. That didn't mean he would allow himself to wait complacently, however. He kept his rifle poised and a sharp eye on Adel. Even in that cheap folding metal chair, she sat with her back ramrod straight, poised like a queen. Honestly, he was surprised she'd dyne to stoop so low as to mingle with the mortals.

He guessed she'd make an exception, when said mortals were moving like chess pieces across her stage.

Squall and Destin circled each other with bated breath. Laguna was far from an expert at swordplay, and he knew even less about gunblades, but still, he thought Squall held the advantage starting off. Destin's sword arm looked a little shaky, and his footwork seemed off balance as well.

"Do you even know how to use that thing? The way you're handling it is pathetic." Squall swung Lionheart in an arch and Destin brought his katana up to parry, nearly stumbling backward from the weight of the other man's swing. Gunblades were heavy. That was why swords were generally outmatched by them; through sheer weight alone. That did, however, mean Destin might be quicker as well. Squall would have to be on his guard.

Sparks flew as steal clashed against steal for a second time and a third; Destin tried to catch Squall by surprise and feigned an attack at his middle, lunging for his legs instead, but the commander wasn't having it. He brought his blade down to block the blow and pushed Destin back, who stumbled and struggled to recover his feet. Not that Squall was giving him much time. He pressed the attack, movements little more than a blur. Heavy as Lionheart must have been, it didn't even seem to faze him. He swung it as if it were lighter than a phoenix feather.

Already it was plain to see that Destin was never going to one-up Squall this way. The young man was a master at his craft; a legend in his own right. Even government officials spoke his name in hushed whispers. He held a power and influence they could scarcely hope to touch, and they seemed to understand that.

It wasn't the swordplay Laguna was worried about. It was whatever Destin had hidden. If this young man was one of Adel's chosen children, he'd have some magical aptitude, right?

Laguna sighed. He could only guess. Ellone never said anything about him, nor had any of the others when he'd released them from their pods. There was no file on him either, but there had been a picture. Grainy and a little hard to make out. Laguna dismissed it as a child who died, but somehow, the sight had stayed with him. Even though it wasn't the best photograph, he could still see the terror in the child's odd green eyes. Now here he was, standing before them. How? Had he missed a pod release? Had he overlooked a bunker?

Where did she _hide _him?

Laguna was startled out of his musings by a muffled gasp. His head shot up to find that Squall had found an opening and managed to take a gash out of Destin's right arm. It didn't appear fatal, but blood oozed from it steadily.

Destin recovered his footing and faced the SeeD Commander, who curled his lip with contempt. "Pitiful. You're not a knight. Your skill is barely passable."

"You're right. I'm not. But I want to be. I want to be that for her."

"I want Rinoa back, but we can't always have everything, can we?" The pain in his voice lasted but a moment before it steadied, determined. "You don't even need that sword, do you? I don't know what you are, but I can feel the magic within. If I didn't know better I'd say you were a sorcerer. Are you?"

"I don't know. I was born this way. I was hoping you could tell me why."

From listening to this exchange, you'd think Destin _had _to be mocking Squall, but he wasn't. His tone was so painfully earnest, it was almost hard to listen to. Again, Laguna's heart went out to him. He couldn't help but feel that whatever fate had befallen this boy, it was probably his fault.

That was becoming a trend, really.

Squall's eyes narrowed, but he was done trying to figure him out. He advanced on him slowly, a lion stalking its prey. "I can't even rationalize my life. What makes you think I give a damn about _yours_?"

He lunged and once again, Laguna was bearing witness to a magnificent spark show, although clearly, Squall had been testing him before, because now his attacks were utterly merciless. He danced around Destin, so outmatched, the boy could hardly manage to bring his blade up quickly enough to parry.

Before long, Squall was twisting his wrist, ripping the sword straight from his opponent's grasp. He stood at the ready, poised to defend if his opponent got desperate and finally broke out his magic.

"You'll never be even a passable swordsman with an attitude like that. You lack all confidence. You face me as if you're _afraid_."

Destin smiled sadly. "I'm always afraid." He straightened a bit, sword all but forgotten. His eyes held a determination they had previously lacked. Laguna didn't know how his son felt about that, but it made _him_ nervous.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this, but I can't let you pass."

Squall's face tightened, but he remained motionless, Lionheart at his side, left hand poised for casting. Laguna thought he saw him mutter a few incantations before a barrier flickered to life around him; shell. It wouldn't stop magical attacks completely, but it would lessen their affect.

"Come then. Stop playing and show me what you're hiding."

For once, the other young man gazed resolutely back at Squall, unflinching, though the melancholy that seemed to follow him like a cloud hung over him even still. "You're going to wish you hadn't asked me that, I think."

Destin's head lulled back, eyes rolling into his head, eerie blue-green light surrounding his form. It could have been a barrier of some sort, or perhaps he was simply summoning more magic than could be contained in any earthly body. In any case, supernatural light barriers were almost never good, so what did it matter anyway?

Laguna couldn't even begin to guess what sort of power he could be preparing himself to use, but Squall was not letting the opportunity pass. He paused for a second before clenching his hand in front of his face, muttering words Laguna once again, could not hear. The young commander was probably drawing power from whatever guardian forces he had equipped, and his suspicions were proven right as he passed that self-same hand in front of him, seeming almost in a trance.

"Shiva. Come to me._" _

He watched in awe as the beautiful guardian force shimmered into life, appearing from a cloud of ice shards, shining like diamonds. Her hair was a glorious blue-white cascading down her back; her eyes, such an unearthly shade it seemed a crime to describe their color. If pressed, he would say they'd been carved from sapphires and forged in the sky.

Wordlessly, the maiden swept a shimmering white cloak off her shoulders. Insubstantial as it seemed, she draped it reverently over Squall's shoulders, and it hung as if made for him. To Laguna's shock, he smiled at the ice goddess and touched her hand.

He would have given anything to hear their thoughts in that moment. To know what passed between them as they wordlessly gazed into each other's eyes. Simply guessing would never be enough, but it would have to suffice, he supposed.

Squall nodded to an unspoken question, an apology in his gaze.

The ethereal creature regarded the young man she served with warmth in her eyes, tracing a ghostly finger across his cheek before turning to their enemy.

Destin had gathered his own power, and stood watching them. Just watching. Not with malice, or even a degree of hostility, but with longing. Squall had clearly forged a deep connection with Shiva, and she with him. Laguna couldn't help but feel a bit of envy himself.

More importantly, however, he now emanated so much raw magic, his body was literally shimmering with it. He had removed his cloak and he stood with both arms hanging loosely at his sides, aura green and crackling around his lean form. His eyes wore that same fixed determination, though thin trails of blood leaked from the corners of them now.

Laguna flinched a bit as new barriers sprang to life around his own body; Squall must have strengthened his wards, which puzzled him under the circumstances.

Well. Angry as Squall might have been with him on a personal level, the fact remained that he was the president of a powerful nation. The young commander would never live it down if he died under his watch, no matter what the circumstances might be. That was what he assumed the explanation was, anyhow. It sure as hell wasn't because he cared about Laguna the person. Not now. Not that he blamed him in the least for that.

His head snapped back to the battle as Destin conjured a shimmering ball of white light in the palm of his right hand. What spell it was exactly, Laguna hadn't the foggiest idea, but Squall seemed visibly shocked to have seen it.

The young commander angled his gunblade defensively in front of him as Shiva braced for impact. "It takes even some sorceresses _years _to master such pure white magic. How? How could someone like you possibly cast Holy?"

"The elements call to me. I don't quite understand myself, but they're my friends. Isn't it the same for you and the white lady?" White lady? He must have meant Shiva.

Apparently Squall wasn't very keen on dignifying that with a response. He narrowed his eyes and threw Shiva a near imperceptible glance, and the maiden nodded an affirmative, dancing around him, conjuring an ice storm the likes of which he had never seen. Destin powered his spell even further and the ball of light doubled in size and before Laguna's eyes. The young man then raised his left palm as well. A second spell shimmered to life.

His eyes widened. This one he recognized. Flare.

He watched in growing horror as Destin raised his arms above his head. The two spells formed as one…a sphere of gorgeous hell-fire, engulfed in an eerie white light. Holy Flare? Oh.

Well, shit.

Poor Shiva never stood a chance. Her storm of ice shards whipped around Destin, leaving minuscule cuts all over his face, down his arms, his legs…but they were largely superficial. She was able to shield Squall from a majority of the blast, but only just, and before his eyes, the beautiful guardian force cried out in pain before exploding into dust. Just as suddenly as she appeared, she returned from whence she had come. Wherever that was, anyway.

He knew she wasn't gone forever, but all the same. It struck him as unbearably sad. How such a magnificent being could find herself so horribly outmatched was just surreal, especially when she was, for all intents and purposes, Squall's familiar.

The force of the spell sent both Squall and Laguna flying backward violently, Laguna just barely avoiding knocking himself into next week against the cold stone wall. When his ears stopped ringing and his eyes re-adjusted, he picked himself up off the floor to find Squall doing the same, albeit with a nasty looking gash taken out of his cheek and a very slight limp. His jacket and pants were singed nearly beyond repair, and Squall shrugged out of it in one smooth motion, yanking the gunblade out of the ground within the very next breath.

With all haste, he hurried forward in a zigzag, hurling spell after spell at Destin in an effort to unbalance him enough to give himself an opening. The other man merely deflected them with considerable ease, which was saying something, to be sure. Squall was no sorcerer, but his skill was remarkable all the same. His magic in the final battle to save their world had been powerful enough to stand up against Adel's and even Ultimecia's, or so Laguna had been told.

Destin, evidently weary of just deflecting, hurled his own spells with impressive speed, imitating Squall's zigzag motion to catch the young commander off guard. Laguna also noted with intrigue that the young man was casting without uttering a single word. Fire, water, thunder, ice: all in rapid succession. Squall managed to dodge around each one and when he got close to Destin's form, swept his blade in a wide arc toward him.

A grave mistake, he would soon find.

Destin waved his arm and unleashed a powerful wind in his wake, sweeping Squall off his feet before he had a chance to realize his mistake. The spell had come more quickly than Destin's other attempts, which was undoubtedly why Squall was so taken off guard. Perhaps Destin had been timing his other spells deliberately to mislead him?

Bad. This was very bad. Damn it! He couldn't just stand here and watch any longer! Laguna hefted his gun and stood, ready to offer his assistance and buy Squall a little time to recover when he heard Adel cackle from her place by the wall. And cackling, in his experience, was never good.

At first, he didn't understand why. But when he heard Squall's strangled gasp from where he crouched on the floor, the President of Esthar's face broke out in a cold sweat. With growing trepidation, he glanced back at Destin-

And felt his jaw drop open in shock.

The young sorcerer was floating a few feet off the ground.

Suspended by a beautiful white pair of angel wings.

Squall remained frozen, transfixed by what he saw, and horrified as Laguna was, he had the presence of mind to rush out to his son's side, placing himself as a human shield in front of him.

He couldn't read Destin's expression as he extended a hand once more, though his eyes remained expressive as always.

Tears stood in them. And it was with pity that Destin conjured a shimmering ball of lightning and extended it toward them. He expected pain, though in the end, received none. Laguna's body merely spasmed for a moment or two before collapsing to the floor right beside Squall's, who fell facing him.

His expression had fallen blank under whatever paralysis had been cast upon them, but his eyes were wild with panic; panic, sorrow and even regret.

Laguna could almost hear the young man's thoughts: _I'm sorry. All I do is mess up. I'm a failure._

He longed to reach out to him in those moments, but contented himself with gazing right back, hoping to Hyne or whatever the fuck was up there that something of his own emotion would be displayed in his own eyes.

_It's not your fault. You didn't fail anyone. That was me._

_It has been me all along._

* * *

Yeah. We've established that I'm a bad person. Sorry.

It has been awhile since I've written a fight scene. That being said, I wanted to make sure this one didn't sound fake, forced and corny, and I like the result. I think. Speaking of, I don't actually think I saw anyone use Holy in Final Fantasy VIII, but since it exists in the series as a whole I'm going to use it anyway. Because I _can._

Anyway, I always love to hear from you so if you have an extra minute or two, I'd love to hear your comments and opinions, good or bad. Once again, you're all awesome. Thanks for sticking with me!


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